Scotch
by Frannie3
Summary: Chuck made a promise and he intends to keep it, but first he and Vanessa share a drink. Too bad Gossip Girl is watching. Chuck/Vanessa, Chuck/Blair
1. A Glass

_It seems that Lonely Boy's wrong-side-of-the-tracks friend has finally caught the train to the Upper West Side, and B. is not happy about it. Maybe she realizes what her game-playing has cost her. Or maybe she isn't done playing the game. Who has Chuck's heart? I can't say for sure, but it looks like Vanessa has some of his lust. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Limos and champagne. Furs and diamonds. Tickets to Broadway shows and wristbands to the hottest clubs. Everything designer label. Everything for everyone else to see. No secrets, no privacy, no hiding from the prying eyes of Gossip Girl.

Vanessa knew all too well how things happened in the upper-echelon of New York's rich teen scene. Anything they wanted was theirs for the taking while she scraped by. Everything they had was taken for granted while she praised each new opportunity and held on to it with gritted teeth. All the luxuries were wasted on wasteful people and those who needed it, those who never begged or pleaded or complained, were sitting on the sidewalk in the cold outside a run-down bar. They were trying to save a landmark while the rich were dining and dancing only blocks away, unaware of what "landmark" even meant.

Chuck Bass had tried to save it, had tried to do good. As always he had a motive and Vanessa couldn't help but feel foolish for not trusting her gut and ignoring his persistence. Still, sitting on a lawn chair, wrapped in an old flannel blanket and snuggling her Starbucks hot chocolate for warmth, she couldn't help but think of him and smile. That conversation she overhead between him and his father, the look in his eye when he returned to the bar beaten down and brushed as a liar, the glimmer that was not in his eye when his scheme was revealed. After all he had won. She hadn't been seduced physically, but she had fallen for his attempt at community philanthropy. Shouldn't Chuck has reveled in his victory? Shouldn't he and Blair have shared an evil laugh at her expense? Shouldn't he have stayed at his party and toasted to his richness, his suaveness, his Chuck-ness?

As the protestors began to leave Vanessa considered going home, but she couldn't. Not for the bar, but because she secretly wished he would appear.

"I'm going home, V." one of the community war-wagers said.

Vanessa looked up at him and nodded silently.

"Will you be okay here alone?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm heading home too."

Folding up her chair and draping the blanket around her shoulders Vanessa made her way to the double doors of the bar, she would find warmth in there for sure. Instead, she found Chuck Bass.

He was sitting at a table on the only chair that wasn't perched high on its end. He was alone. He was nursing a drink.

"So you just helped yourself?" she asked as the doors closed behind her.

"I found a bottle under the bar. Scotch. Old. Good." He held the glass up, but didn't look at her. "You want some?"

"How did you even get in here?" she placed the lawn chair next to the bar and the blanket on the counter. She realized the hot chocolate was outside and didn't want to leave it there, but she could not pull herself from looking at Chuck.

"The back door. You should really be more careful. You never know what kind of scum could come crawling in here."

She knew he was talking about himself, almost as if he wanted her to join in his comment, to berate him for his actions. She didn't. Vanessa had more class and she knew it.

Chuck knew it too, and as she stayed quite he smiled.

"I can go, if you want."

Vanessa walked slowly to his side and looked down at him. She took down another wooden chair and placed it on the creaky floor next to Chuck. In a fast, large swoop she almost fell into a crossed leg position on the chair, curling her feet beneath her legs. "I'll stay, if you don't mind."

Vanessa reached for the scotch bottle which sat on the table by Chuck's glass and pulled it toward her. Chuck's eyes followed her movements as the bottle was lifted up to her lips and Vanessa swallowed a large gulp of alcohol.

"You didn't strike me as an underage drinker."

"It's cold. I needed something to keep me warm," she said, smiling slyly at him.

"Are you flirting with me?" he asked, now looking her directly in the eye.

"No. I would never flirt with you Bass. Never."

"Never say never."

"You know that doesn't work? The cool, smooth responses. Your not a matinee-idol or a cowboy or anything other than Chuck Bass."

Chuck looked down and away. "I thought you said you were wrong about me?"

"I've been wrong all around these last few days. Hell these last few months." Vanessa took another drink from the bottle. "All I'm saying is, you don't have to play with me."

They sat in silence for several minutes after that, taking drinks and breathing in unison. They exchanged quite looks at one another and then hid their creeping smiles. Vanessa could feel her body grow hot, but she knew it wasn't because of the booze.

"Why did you come here?" she asked finally, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Chuck rose from his chair and headed to the bar, placing his empty glass behind it. "I made a promise. I told you I would save this place and I will."

"How? I heard your father and he…."

"Forget my father. I have the name. I carry the Bass name and I intend to use it for something other than parties and drinks and girls. I can talk to the Heritage Board. I can try and make them see how important this is."

"I thought you said landmark status was a dead-end?" she followed him to the bar and rested her elbows on the counter beside him.

"It is, but it's all we've got right now. At least until I can look into other financial backers."

"Look Chuck, I appreciate the offer, but you can stop now. The jig is up remember?"

"If you don't want my help…." He began to say as he headed for the door.

Against her better judgment Vanessa followed and placed her body between the doors and Chuck. She let her arms outstretch so as to cover more of the opening, her chest inadvertently pressed out and connecting to his own. Their faces so close, breath on breath, the smell of scotch more intoxicating than the taste.

What was happening to her? Why was it happening? She ruined her chances with Nate. She knew she had betrayed trusts and taken her affections one step too far. She had become like the petty, social climbing rich girls she was sure she hated. But falling for Chuck, that could not happen. Nate would never look at her the same if she were to go out, or kiss, or…..If she were to be with his best friend. Yet there she was, in the dark of the bar, staring at his lips and biting her own in restraint.

"Please move."

His voice was cold, monotone, sad. Vanessa held her ground.

"Please."

She had never heard him, or any of his kind, say please. It hurt her. She moved.

"Thank you."

He pushed the door open and stepped outside. The night air was cold and he pulled his arms around his chest. Vanessa followed him, always following him. She felt foolish, but then she noticed his limo was nowhere in sight.

"Where's your ride?" she asked, clutching her own body tight, wishing she still had that flannel blanket.

"I don't have one," he said. Catching her eye he saw the look of distrust. "It's a couple blocks away. I just have to call."

"Well don't let me keep you." Vanessa turned on her sneaker-clad heels and re-entered the bar. Before the doors could close Chuck was in behind her.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice startling her. She turned around and he was there against her, again too close for comfort.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, yes you are. You are not like other girls. You care about these things, but you don't care about people."

"Excuse me. I don't care about people? This coming from the great Chuck Bass? The new Lonely Boy?"

"So you read Gossip Girl?"

"No!"

"You pretend to be all high and mighty, above all us rich people, but you're sitting at home reading about us, thinking about us, showing up at our schools and parties wishing you were one of us."

"Go to hell Bass." Vanessa rushed behind the bar looking for another bottle. She wasn't sure if she wanted to drink from it or hit Chuck with it.

"Searching for a weapon?" he called after her. How did he know?

She stopped and looked up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't you already ask me that?"

"Call your limo and go home Chuck."

He exited the bar again and reached inside his Armani pants pocket for the sleekest, most expensive cell phone his father's money could buy. Flipping it open he could see that a text had been missed, the phone had been on silent. Scrolling to the text he knew it would be from Blair, they were always from Blair. For a girl who said she did not like him she sure did text him a lot.

"I thought you were leaving," Vanessa said strolling up beside him.

He nodded and opened the text.

"Thought u wanted it. 2 bad 4 u." it read.

"Looks like you missed out," Vanessa commented, blatantly reading the text off the cell phone screen.

"Privacy much?" he scoffed returning the phone to his pocket.

"Well, according to you I'm just going to read about it on Gossip Girl later."

He smiled wide and she did too. They stood in silence once again, this time surrounded by the New York air, the city skyline peering down on them, illuminating them from above. Vanessa knew she had missed her moment, but what moment it was exactly still eluded her. Did she miss the opportunity to save the bar? Or did she miss the opportunity to save Chuck Bass? As a cold shot of wind turned the corner toward them, Vanessa found herself moving closer to him, letting his form shield her from the weather. For a second she thought his arm was going to creep around her shoulders, but instead it moved past and Chuck let a hand run through his thick, black hair. The wind made that hair blow wild and he looked almost imperfect. Vanessa liked it.

"I want you to save the bar."

He made no noise, no move, no retort. Vanessa sighed heavily, but it was stifled by the wind.

"Did you hear me? I want you to save the bar."

"I heard you. I just wanted to hear it again."

The limo pulled around the corner and stopped before them.

"But you didn't call?" Vanessa said, startled by the vehicle's presence. She thought they had more time.

"Sad?"

Vanessa turned around to go back inside.

"I'm going to keep my word!" He called after her.

"I know!" she said without turning back. He watched her enter the bar, and could hear the old brass locks clack in place behind her.

Chuck slid into the back of the limo, the door already open for him, the limo driver waiting patiently as Chuck took one more look at the bar window. One more look at Vanessa who was undoubtedly looking back at him.

As the limo drove off into the New York that Chuck was more comfortable with, as it left the slums behind, he checked his cell one more time. There was another missed text.

"Thought u wanted it. 2 bad 4 u. Vanessa."

Vanessa finally made it home, throwing her jacket to the floor and kicking off her sneakers. She jumped to the bed and wrapped herself in the covers, breathing in the fabric softner, wishing she weren't alone. Pulling the laptop from her night-side-table she flipped open the top and immediately clicked on the Gossip Girl link.

There on the front page, the newest piece of news, was a picture of her and Chuck standing outside of the bar. They were looking forward, almost as if they had been posing for a portrait, but Vanessa hadn't seen any photographers.

The caption read: _"Lonely no more."_


	2. A Bottle

_A night spent together at a bar. Well, well it looks like Chuck Bass's new girl shares his tastes. Good thing because my sources tell me B. is getting frigid. There's no love for Chuck there, at least not for a while. So I guess it's as good a time as any to go slumming. Don't you think? XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Chuck awoke in a strange bed, with a strange taste in his mouth. The sheets smelled of scotch. He knew immediately what had happened and his heart dropped a little as he realized there would be no way to take it back. Rolling over onto his side he spied the blonde next to him, naked, her breasts staring at him, taunting him. He reached over ready to touch, but mentally scolded himself and backed away. Clad only in his boxers, Chuck slid from the bed and scurried to the next room. Chuck Bass didn't scurry. What the hell was he doing? His designer duds were scattered about the floor of the luxury hotel suite and he quietly picked them up and put them on, hoping not to wake his sleeping companion.

The events of the following night began to come into view, piercing glimpses of a bar, a girl, and a bottle of scotch. Except it wasn't the girl from the next room, it was Vanessa.

Once fully clothed Chuck checked his pockets for his wallet and phone. They were safe. It was time to go home.

The elevator ride down to the main floor was a slow one. Looking at himself in the reflective material of the doors he felt sick. Had he really just slept with a girl to get back at another? Or had he slept with a girl while thinking about another? And if either was true, which girl was he getting back at and which was he thinking of? Blair or Vanessa?

The limo was waiting outside the hotel, parked just a few spots from the door. The driver was drifting to sleep behind the wheel. Chuck hurried over and knocked heavily on the hood waking the driver with fear and anxiety. He quickly exited the vehicle, trying desperately to put his wrinkled uniform back in order, before opening the back door and ushering Chuck inside.

"Home," Chuck said and the driver nodded and closed the door. When he returned to his seat up front he began the course for the Bass penthouse apartment.

Chuck rubbed his head and slinked into the leather seat. His breath still smelled of scotch, too much scotch too handle, even for him. But he hadn't had that much with Vanessa, only a glass. He must have gotten drunk at another bar, with another girl. He must have, because he could feel the alcohol seep from his pores. He was hung-over, and it was a school day.

"Late night? So much for the rules," Serena said as Chuck lazily entered the Bass family kitchen and took a seat next to Eric. The brother and sister duo were already clad in their uniforms.

"Where's the king and queen of this happy home?" he quipped.

"Mom is at some gallery picking out more art…" Eric began.

"If that's possible," Serena added, peeling back the skin of the banana. A full breakfast indeed.

"And Bart is…well, I don't where Bart is, but he isn't here," Eric said. "You look terrible man. Do you need something?"

Chuck felt momentarily happy that someone seemingly cared about him. He had never had a brother, well Nate, but never one obligated to feel for him, forced through marital ties.

"No."

"No you don't need anything?" Serena asked. "Are you sure? You look like you got hit by the Metro bus."

"No, I don't need anything. No, I didn't get hit by a bus. And no, I'm not going to school today," Chuck responded placing his head in his cradled hands on the table. The pounding inside his skull just would not stop.

"I have a great hang-over remedy if you need it," Serena said, throwing away her half-eaten banana and reaching down to pull up her white thigh high socks.

"How do you know he's hung-over?" Eric asked. Serena raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Right. Of course you would know."

"Hey!" she pushed him and he slid from his chair, catching his footing and pushing back. They wrestled with their arms for a moment before Chuck loudly groaned and sighed.

"We get the point," Eric responded. "See you later."

Eric headed to the elevator as Serena bent down to Chuck's partially covered ear. She pulled his arm away from his face and said, "Next time, take the remedy."

She and Eric fled the apartment, laughing and squabbling. Their voices drifting off as the elevator drifted down.

Chuck didn't need a hangover remedy. He knew what he needed and Serena could not give it to him, well not anymore.

After a long hot shower, a nap, and a few outfit changes Chuck was ready to get what was his. He called for his limo, silently hoping there was a new, more alert driver behind the wheel.

The drive to his school was quick, it was mid-day, everyone in New York had somewhere else to be and they were most likely there already. He stared out the tinted window at the buildings and people, the women, they zipped past. Nameless women, women he could meet in a bar, fuck in a hotel room, and forget a few hours later. The thought that he was like that saddened him, but only for a moment, only until he realized the alternative would be a guy who didn't get fucked at all.

Blair was waiting outside the school gates, as if for him, but it was only a happy coincidence. As the limo pulled up before her Chuck saw a smile cross her face then fade fast as he opened the door and exited the car, moving swiftly toward her.

"I got you text," he said.

"My what?" she asked. He knew she was pretending, playing hard to get. It was her second favorite game.

"Fine. Pretend. It's ok."

"Well, if you got it why didn't I get a response?" she crossed her arms and looked up, the picture of a spoiled little rich girl.

"You know why," he moved in close and whispered in her ear, "you know where I was."

"With her? Of course I know. I can read Chuck, it's one of the many gift I have that she doesn't," Blair laughed at her own attempt at an insult. "So you were with Vanessa. I assume you have a good reason…and even if you don't I really couldn't care."

"Then why are you waiting out here for me?" he asked smiling wide, his devious eyes glimmering in the sun.

"For you? I'm not. Nice try though. I have a lunch date. I'm waiting for him to pick me up."

"A date?"

"Yes. My mother knows this fabulously wealthy Italian man, she gets her fabrics from one of his shops. Well, it turns out he has a son at university here…mmmmm majoring in, oh what is it? Oh right. He's pre-med, of course. So I agreed to have lunch with him, show him the town as it were."

Blair's lips curled up on the left side and her eyes squinted. She looked mischievous, but still somehow devastatingly sexy. Her long brown hair lightly blowing in the wind, her short kilt doing the same. Chuck closed his eyes tight and tried not to see, but the images of her were already dancing behind his eyes, clustering in his mind.

"Haven't you slept with enough Europeans?" he finally asked, but she was already crossing the street to get into a waiting car. A navy BMW. Not the nicest he's ever seen, but certainly a mark of some money. Blair drove off with the mystery Italian without so much as a wave goodbye. She was getting to him, eating at him, and he knew this was not the remedy he had originally had in mind.

Back in the limo he began to feel guilty about the next stop he would make. He hardly ever felt guilty, or at least hardly ever showed it, but he had to wash away the blonde from his skin and Blair from his mind. He knew Vanessa would be at Humphrey's dad's gallery. He knew she had nowhere else to be at noon on a Friday.

"No, I understand, but that painting needs to be shipped to a client within the next two days. Well, I expect to see one of your men here before the end of the day to pick it up. I don't care what it takes I want it done." Vanessa slammed down the phone and angrily brushed the dark, soft curls from her eyes. Lifting back her hair revealed Chuck Bass in her sightlines.

"I know you're not open, but I just wanted to see what you do," he said, his hands shyly in his pockets, his shoulders shrugged.

"Right," she whispered, not believing a word, but too tired and too intrigued by his visit to call him on his obvious lies. "Well then, this is it," she said holding her arms out to invite his eyes to partake the gallery. "What do you think?"

"I think we need a drink."

"It's noon Bass."

"Not everywhere in the world."

"Too bad we live in New York then."

"Not too bad. I mean in New York the bars are already open. In New York they hardly card. And when they do…"

"In New York the Bass name means everything," she finished for him.

He nodded to her, tipping an imaginary hat to her good will and humor. "So what do you say?"

"How about lunch?" she asked.

He didn't answer. Lunch? That wouldn't help. Sitting across from her at a restaurant, worrying who would see, worrying if Blair would see. Eating a meal and having a real conversation wasn't what he wanted or what he needed. Sex. Sex was his hangover remedy. The blonde, she couldn't help though, probably still drunk herself. It was the chase that made it count. He wanted to sweet talk, whisper, caress, pull, slam, slap, fuck. He wanted the whole package and since Blair was at the newest, hippest restaurant in town having her own kind of sex, Vanessa was all that was left.

"Well, I have a lot of work so…"

"Lunch would be great," he said before realizing what the words meant. Maybe Vanessa wasn't just 'left'. Maybe she was the one he wanted all along.

"I'll get my bag."

Chuck quickly turned to leave, slink out once more, flee the gallery and the lunch date. But he knew leaving now would mean he could never return. Not to the place and not to the girl. So he waited for her to get her bag, lock up the gallery, and follow him outside.

"I'm not taking that," she said, referring to the limo.

"Why not?"

"Seriously? Why not? There are like a hundred restaurants in a five block radius and I have a pair of perfectly good legs."

"Yes you do."

She caught the comment, and Chuck thought he saw her begin to blush.

"Come on Bass," she called as she began down the street. He watched he go, watched those legs and much more. She looked too good not to follow.

Blair sat in the restaurant, her date in the rest room. She played with her food; the fork poking through lettuce leaves again and again. She was bored.

Her phone beeped from inside her red leather purse and Blair hungrily grabbed at it and flipped it open. It was a message alert. A new post on the Gossip Girl site. Connecting to the page Blair was greeting by another picture of Chuck and Vanessa. Her fists clenched; one around the phone itself, and one around the fork driving it deep into the salad killing the greens. There they were outside the Humphrey gallery. She was smiling, maybe even blushing. The caption read:_ "Lunch and Lust for Two."_


	3. A Mini

_My sources tell me there is trouble on the way for B. and her girls. What kind of trouble? Well, you'll have to wait and see. Still, something tells me it has to do with a certain Bass and his drinking companion. What was her name again? Oh, well. I don't think it's her name he's interested in. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"I thought we were going to lunch?" Vanessa asked as she hurriedly tried to catch up with Chuck. For a guy who didn't like walking he was doing it pretty fast.

"I have a better idea."

"Well, I'm kinda hungry and I could use some…." Her voice trailed off once she realized where they were. A boutique. A clothing boutique. An expensive clothing boutique. "What are we doing here?" she asked, peering through the window at black and hot pink party gowns.

"I think you should have one."

"Have one what? One of these?"

He nodded.

"No, no, no, no. I don't not want one of these."

"Come inside before you judge," he took her hand to lead her in and she immediately felt weak. The blood rushed to her head and she tripped on the walk up, all the while thinking of how his skin felt against hers. "You okay?"

"mmmm…. uh huh."

She knew he liked it, liked that he had an affect on her. She hated that he liked it.

"Why do I need a cocktail dress?" Vanessa asked, visually taking in the store. Colors swarming through her brain. She ran her fingers across a rack of sweater dresses, feeling what she thought was surely cashmere beneath her touch. Her hands immediately craved more. She hated to admit it, but the rich had good taste.

"Fridays are an important night for us. Parties, drinking, dancing. And of course, all the necking," he winked back at her while pulling dresses off their hooks and tossing them gently to her waiting arms.

"Fridays? Don't you mean 'everyday'?"

"Cute. But the weekend is special. People are more forgiving at a larger social event. The riff-raff isn't so obvious among the crowd."

"Are you calling me…." She began but he cut her off, placing his hand over her mouth in a smooth, soft motion. Vanessa did not protest.

"I'm just saying….well, that we could enjoy ourselves." He removed his hand from her mouth and placed it on her waist. She froze in position, unsure of what he was about to do. Using his hand he pressed her back, hard as she was immobile, toward the dressing room. "Try them on." He slid the curtain closed between them.

Vanessa knew he was enjoying this.

The first dress: dark green, satin, strapless and short, was one of the…sexiest things she had ever put on. She stared in the mirror at her own curves, appreciating them, truly, and running her hands through her hair, as if she were flirting with a cute boy. But there was a cute boy, just on the other side of the curtain, a boy she wanted to flirt with, but wasn't sure how.

She tentatively stepped out from the cover of the curtain, holding it tightly in her hand, fearing she would need it to cover herself if Chuck didn't like the dress. The look on his face made her blush and she let the curtain fall. He was smiling, or at least trying to smile. It was as if something inside him was holding back his true emotions. She wasn't surprised; after all it was Chuck Bass.

"You like it," she quipped, doing an impromptu spin before him, her feet still clad in gray and blue striped socks.

"It's ok."

"Well, there's more to try on," Vanessa turned back, but was stopped. Chuck's hand gripped hers and he pulled her before him. Hoe many times was he going to use that trick? It felt just like the night before, minus the scotch. She really should have gone and gotten that drink. Together they stood before a full-length mirror, facing their reflections, hand in hand.

"This is the one," he said resolutely, knowing his decision was final. Vanessa did not object. She was getting good at playing mute.

They stared at one another for a moment or two, but only through the mirror. Neither dared to actually stare, because it may have been…weird. At least Vanessa felt weird, dressed like a princess before the self-crowned prince of the Upper West side.

She pulled her hand away sharply and returned to the dressing room. As she struggled with the zipper she knew Chuck could hear her sighs of aggravation, but she dared not ask for his help.

"Why do I need a cocktail dress again," she called to him while getting dressed in her regular blue jeans, band t-shirt (Rock Steady Crew), and purple cardigan.

"Like I said, parties are to the rich what air is to the poor. There's a party tonight…well, more than one, but we can start slow. There's a party tonight and I would like to take you there." He spoke to her like he was her professor, or an all-knowing guru of everything New York. He spoke to her like he already knew what her response would be and as much as it pained Vanessa to feel inferior to him at times, it hurt her more to know that he was right.

She pulled back the curtain revealing her 'normal' self. "You know, rich people need air to breath too."

"That's what you think." He took the dress from her hands and began towards the counter.

"Whoa, whoa there. You can't buy this for me," she snapped, pulling the dress away from him.

"Well, the party isn't here so we may have to purchase it in order to let it leave the store," again he grabbed for the dress, but Vanessa played a tough game of keep-away.

"I can buy it, Bass." She sauntered over to the counter and placed the dress before the sales girl. Taking her debit card from her back pocket she waited for the total.

"648.32," the sales girl said, no hint of irony in her voice.

Without a word Vanessa calmly placed the card back in her pocket and stepped away from the counter. Chuck paid.

Outside the store, the limo waiting, Vanessa asked, "what makes you think I will go with you to a party? I mean, you didn't even ask me."

Chuck gave her the store bag, then took the time to slowly and gently button up her cardigan and pull closed her coat. "It's cold, you know. I hope you have a jacket to cover that dress."

He walked to the limo and for the second night in a row she watched him slide effortlessly into its back seat and close the world off from around him. This time, however, he rolled the window down and suggestively winked to her before departing. "Pick you up at the gallery at nine."

Vanessa shook her head in disbelief and began the walk back to the gallery. As her stomach rumbled she realized they hadn't had lunch.

Inside the limo Chuck checked his phone certain of what he would find. A text from Blair.

"We need 2 talk. Now."

He laughed to himself. Did she think she could play him? Did she think she would win? It was her idea to involve Vanessa in their sorted affairs and now she was jealous, and Blair jealous meant only good things for Chuck. It was he who was playing, and winning the game. If he couldn't have Vanessa, couldn't kiss her or fuck her like he suspected he could, then he would pretend in order to get Blair.

Opening the limo's compact silver fridge Chuck pulled out an airplane-sized bottle of scotch, opening it slowly, taking in the smell before the taste. Scotch now held new meaning for him.

The Queen B. was his ultimate goal, but as the hangover wore off Chuck realized he like the other girl too; liked her in a way that surprised him. He would still work his magic, especially if she was in that green dress, but he may just feel guilty about it.

Looking at the Gossip Girl page on his phone and seeing a blurry photo of himself and Vanessa inside the store, her clad in those socks and that dress, the guilt disappeared. He would have her. He knew it and Gossip Girl knew it. The caption read: _"The Newest Conquest."_


	4. A Tumbler

_They say New York is the city that never sleeps. Well, neither does Chuck Bass. At least he never sleeps alone. There's a party tonight and my sources tell me both B. and Lonely Boy's gal pal will be there. Who will end up with Chuck? Who will end up in his bed? Who isn't going to sleep tonight? When it comes to Chuck, your guess is as good as mine. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Chuck wanted to show up with Vanessa on his arm. Stroll into the party at 10ak in Chelsea, grab a glass of champagne from the nearest platter and saunter past Blair with his date wearing that green satin dress. He wanted all eyes on him, and for once he wanted them gazing towards him for the best possible reason.

He was late though, too late. He was never late unless it was on purpose, unless he was trying to make a statement or a sneaky entrance. He had already called to warn the limo, he wondered why after clicking closed his cell. Perhaps Vanessa was actually making him care about things, about people. Then he remember what he wanted to do to her…and her body, and thought not. He had also called Nate, just to check whether or not he was going to the party. Chuck wanted to make people jealous, and he was sure Nate would eventually find out about his intentions towards the girl from the wrong-side-of-the-tacks, he just didn't want Nate to be jealous of him in person. Chuck knew all to well that the presence of alcohol helped fists fly…usually in his direction.

Nate was hanging with the Humphrey clan. He hadn't told Chuck that, but Chuck was very rarely surprised, or lied to, without finding out the truth.

Chuck contemplated calling Vanessa. Maybe canceling. Maybe just warning her he was going to be running late. He may even apologize. Or perhaps he should just let her wait.

Serena was already gone to 10ak, the hottest, newest "it" destination. She ran out the door before Lily and Bart could see her in her black micro-mini and stilettos. Chuck knew it was a whore's outfit, but somehow when Serena wore it she looked beautiful. She had the ability to make almost anything and anyone look beautiful. Vanessa shared that ability. It was too bad she wasn't rich, or else people might take notice of it.

Chuck finished tying his silk, dark purple tie and placing a purple handkerchief in the front pocket of his suit when he heard the elevator doors open to the Bass penthouse. Perhaps Serena had forgotten the other half of her dress, he thought as he turned the corner to greet her with a snide remark.

Standing in the hall, clad in a rich red cocktail dress, high front, barely existent back, and black pumps, was Blair. She was already biting her bottom lip, as if she knew one word would bring them both to their knees.

"Looking good B. Too good," Chuck said, while fixing his pearl cuff links and straightening out his shirt.

Blair did not respond, she only reached out her hand to stroke his tie.

"You like it?" he asked.

She nodded. Slowly making a circle around Chuck, so he could see her bare back and the curves of her rear. She stood behind him, even with her heels too short, and reached over his shoulders to adjust his tie. Then she gently nuzzled against his neck and blew hot air toward his ear. Finally she cupped his ass and gave it a gently squeeze.

"I know what you're doing," he said turning around to face her, taking each of her wrists in each of his hands. He held them out stretched, taking in the view from a foot above.

Blair leaned in, holding her lips just beneath his. Waiting.

"Mmmmm as tempting as this is…." He began, then she kissed him. Lightly, gently, softly. Her plump, pink lips resting on his. It was just for a moment, a short fleeting moment, but Chuck knew that she had gotten what she wanted.

Blair pulled away quickly, wrenching her wrists away from him and walking sexily towards the elevator. Just before she was to turn the corner, Blair turned back, one long glance over her shoulder and a smile from that mouth. Chuck's heart beat fast, faster than he had ever know before, as she slide out of view and he heard those elevator doors close.

Chuck caught his breath, literally caught it, as he bent forward and ran his hands through his hair. The room felt as if it was spinning, the tie felt as if it was choking him, his suit as if it was stifling his ability to think. He could only feel, feel her on his skin, on his lips. He needed not to feel anymore.

Rushing to the kitchen Chuck took a tumbler glass from the cupboard, almost too large for him to wrap his sweaty fingers around, but he held on tight, fearfully if he dropped it on the ground he would have to answer to Lily. He did not want any questions now.

Shifting himself in his pants as gracefully as possible, he took the glass to his father's wet bar and poured scotch into it until he could pour no more. In one sitting, in one gulp, without a breath, Chuck Bass drank it all.

Now he was ready.

As he pulled up in front of the gallery Vanessa was not there. He knew he was more than an hour late. He deserved to be stood up. He wondered for a moment if he should go inside and look for her, but he did not want to embarrass himself further. Just as he was about to instruct the driver to move on, he caught a glimpse of that green dress. Vanessa was wearing a long open black coat and the dress shone out from beneath it. She was exiting the gallery and locking it up behind herself. She was not rushing. She did not know he was there. It was happy timing.

"You look great," he called from his open limo window.

Startled, Vanessa jumped a bit before looking to him with stern eyes. "I know."

"I'm late," he said.

"I know that too." Vanessa began to walk away, down the sidewalk and away from the limo, away from Chuck.

Chuck quickly exited the car and started after her.

"Please don't make me chase you. I made a mistake. I was running late. I'm sorry."

Vanessa stopped suddenly and whipped around to face him. "What?"

Chuck did not respond. He was confused.

"Did you just say you were "sorry"?" She smiled at him, as if she had some power over his thoughts and actions.

"No. I don't believe I did."

She kept smiling, a devious smile, a smile not unlike the one he was known to wear so often. He really could not help but love that smile.

"Get in the limo."

She let out a small laugh and then quickly dashed to the limo. Chuck was not sure why she did, if she was conceding the argument, or if she hadn't been mad at all. Or maybe, just maybe, she liked him.

The party was already in full swing by the time they got there. A lineup down the block let all in New York know that this was the place to be. Chuck and Vanessa sauntered past the line and to the door where he didn't have to say a word. He simply gave the doorman the look, a look of importance, a look of money, and he was quickly led inside. Having Vanessa on his arm, having her look that good, made him feel unstoppable. Tonight the party was all for him.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," Vanessa said after Chuck gave her coat the woman behind the half counter near the door.

"What?" Chuck asked, trying to talk above the music.

"A drink," she said, using her hands to gesture her intent, before trying to walk away. As she did the crowd parted and Chuck saw Blair coming toward him. He quickly grabbed Vanessa's elbow and thrust her back to his side. Before she could protest Blair was standing before them, hands on hips, eyes looking Vanessa up and down.

"Long time no see," Chuck said, his eyes looking Blair up and down. He could tell the situation was making both women uncomfortable. Somehow he didn't seem to mind.

"Long time? Really?" She asked, still looking intently at Vanessa. "I was only at your place…what? An hour ago. Not too long." As she stepped in closed toward Vanessa, leaning up just as she had to do with Chuck, she said "and where were you?"

Blair's pack laughed from behind her. Chuck knew they could not hear the Queen B.'s comments, but they were good little pets and laughed when they suspected laughing was required. Then they followed on Blair's heels as she drifted back into the crowd.

Vanessa shot a cold look to Chuck and then headed to the bar. He followed, wanting Blair to see them together for as long as it took.

"Scotch!" she called to the bartender. "A big one!"

"I didn't take you for an underage drinker…" Chuck began to whisper in her ear.

"Save it!" She looked him dead in the eye, no fear, no flattery, no lies. "It's not funny, or cute anymore. If you want to be with Blair that's fine. You two deserve one another. But don't for a second think you can use me to do it. I came tonight because I wanted to believe that believing in you was worthwhile. I wanted to feel desired. I want to wash Nate from my system. Hell, I wanted to be, feel…..something I can't quite explain."

The scotch found its way to her hand and she gulped it down, slamming the glass back on the counter.

"I know now it was foolish of me to trust you. Not because of the bar, I know you'll keep your word. And not because of Blair, I know you too will never be rid of one another. But because of me. Because of this stupid dress and that stupid drink."

Vanessa brushed past him and headed for the door.

"You really have a way," Serena said coming up from behind him.

Chuck turned and gave her a half-hearted smile.

"We both do," he corrected.

"Yeah, we do. So take my advice when I tell you not to mess with people like Vanessa. You think you can handle it, but you can't," she advised, ordering her own drink, a diet coke, from the bartender.

"Not drinking?"

"I'm trying to be better. Maybe you should try too…before it's too late."

Serena nodded to the door where Vanessa was standing, putting on her long black coat.

Chuck hated it when other people were right, mainly when Serena was right.

As Vanessa exited the party out into the cold New York night Chuck followed closely behind.

"We sure do a lot of following."

"What?" Chuck asked, as he fell in line with her steps and they walked past the long lineup once more.

"You and I. For two strong, independent people, we sure do follow one another a lot."

Chuck had no response. She was right, but it didn't feel as bad when she pointed out the obvious than when Serena did. They followed one another like Blair's pets followed her. Were they no better off than them? Were they slaves to their desire?

"I guess it's better to be followed then to be left behind," Chuck said. He was shivering in the early winter wind. He hadn't brought a coat, not to a party. And he hadn't planned on taking a walking tour of Chelsea either.

"Here," Vanessa passed him her scarf.

"I'm fine," he said.

She stopped and swiftly wrapped the scarf around his neck. He had no time, or energy to stop her. The alcohol from before was getting to his head.

They continued walking, briskly, arms swaying next to one another, close enough to hold hands.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"I'm going home. I don't know where you're going," she said taking a turn off the main street onto a dimly lit side street.

"I'm not sure we should be out here…" he began. Vanessa let out a hearty laugh.

"It's barely midnight Bass. I live near here. We will be fine."

"I thought you lived near the gallery," he said. She ignored the question. Why was she always at the gallery? What was it about home that she didn't want to see or feel?

On the next corner there stood a coffee shop. A no-name mom and pop operation, still open with a few stragglers inside. Chuck veered off from Vanessa's course and went inside. He made no attempt to pull her along. He didn't want to force her to follow. It would be her choice if she did or didn't. Her choice if she wanted to be with him or not. As he placed his order Vanessa appeared beside him, her cheeks flush, her hands red and cold.

"And a hot chocolate for the lady," he said to the woman behind the counter. Vanessa did not object. He had done his homework.

"Do you want to walk and talk or sit and drink?" he asked her after they each got their orders.

"I think you should call your limo and have it pick you up here. I can make it home by myself."

"I may be a bad guy Vanessa, but I'm not the worst and I would never let you do that," he said. Buttoning up her coat, just as he had done outside the bar that night in the cold, he suggested a longer walk. Vanessa sighed, but not in grief, just out of surprise. They walked on.

"I didn't sleep with Blair," Chuck finally said after another block of silence.

"It's really none of my business," she returned.

"No, it's not. But I wanted to tell you that yes she was with me earlier, but no we did not sleep together."

"I was bait, right?" Vanessa asked taking a slow sip of her hot chocolate as they crossed the street under the New York moon.

"Yes."

There was no use lying to her. Lying just was not going to work.

"And you want her, right?" she asked.

"Yes," he said somberly.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I don't know," he said stopping in the street. Vanessa turned to face him. "I suppose I want you too."

She chuckled. "Well, wanting what you can't have is probably unusual for you."

"Are we talking about you or about Blair?"

"You can have Blair. We both know she wants you."

"And you don't want me?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

They both smiled wide at the ridiculous nature of the conversation, and at the realization of the unspoken bond, sexual or otherwise, that existed between them.

"Can I invite you up?" Vanessa asked, motioning to the apartment that stood before her.

"This is where you live?"

"We move a lot. This is the newest place. It's basically an empty loft. I can't offer you anything, I don't even think I have bottled water, but…."

Chuck cut her off. "Yeah, I can come up."

The loft was empty; it felt sad being inside it. But they were alone. Chuck did not ask her why, he didn't ask her anything, he simply sat down on the only chair available and took in the view.

"I love the skyline," he said.

"Me too." She took off her coat and in the dim light of the apartment Chuck watched her move from space to space, the moon glistening off her skin. "I'm sorry about the party," she finally said. "Sorry you missed it."

"There will be more." He paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. He wanted to take Serena's advice. He didn't want to hurt Vanessa, but he felt it was the only way to get what he wanted. "I'm sorry about Blair."

"No you're not," she responded. "But it's okay. I'd rather you be with the one you want than lying to the one you're with."

"Damnit!" he let out. Vanessa look startled. "Why are you making this so hard?"

"Excuse me?"

"You are making it too hard to hate you, or use you, or even feel ok about being here."

"I can't apologize for that."

"I didn't ask you too. All I wanted was to save the bar."

"No, all you wanted was to make Blair happy by pulling one over on me."

"Well, maybe now I don't know what I want."

"You just said…" Chuck cut her off by placing his hand in the air.

"I changed my mind." He got up out of his seat and briskly walked across the room before her.

He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close to him. She relented. They had been here before, but Chuck knew this time it wasn't about Blair. He wanted Blair, but he could have her later, he knew how to play the game with her. Vanessa was a one-time deal. He needed to seize his chance now before she realized that he wasn't worth the hype. She grabbed the scarf and pulled on it hard, forcing his face towards hers. Their lips so close, the moment so right.

Then Chuck's cell phone beeped, a message alert of some kind.

He was willing to ignore it, until Vanessa's cell phone did the same.

The moment was broken. Slowly they untangled themselves and Chuck took out his phone and flipped it open. There on the screen was an update from the Gossip Girl site. He exchanged a silent look with Vanessa. They both knew how important that site was to their survival in NYC.

There on the screen was a picture from the 10ak party. The lighting was bad and the image a bit fuzzy, but they could both clearly see Blair dancing and holding and kissing a guy. Her backless red dress popped off the screen, just like her sex appeal. Chuck noticed Vanessa squirm a bit next to him, but he knew it wasn't because of the dress; it was because of the guy. There in Blair's arms was Nate. Lips against lips. The caption read: _"The return of the King."_


	5. A Flask

_Remember that trouble I spoke of? That trouble for B. and the girls? Well, it's here and Vanessa is the one bringing the pain. It seems she didn't like seeing Blair with Nate. Can you blame her? I mean B. usually gets everything she wants, but maybe, just maybe, that won't be the case this time. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Vanessa was furious. How did she do it? How did she have that kind of power over people? Yes she was beautiful, but she was also evil. How did Blair win back Nate?

Vanessa had kicked Chuck out earlier that night. After seeing the picture on the Gossip Girl site she felt like kissing him, ripping his clothes off, and doing him on the hardwood floor in the moonlight. But she knew that if she did she would only be thinking about Nate and Blair and how angry all the lies and lovers actually made her. Startlingly she did not want to use Chuck Bass. She was better than that.

Now she needed a plan. A plan that didn't involve pictures or rumors or whispers. A real plan to bring down that fake queen once and for all. She was smarter than Blair, she could do it if only she knew what would hurt that bitch most of all.

Chuck.

She could get to her through Chuck.

No. No. No. That would go against her new-found resolution to not use him.

Maybe Serena? But that would be cruel.

No. It had to be Chuck. There was no other way.

Vanessa checked the clock. Only 2am. Maybe Chuck was still awake.

"Still thinking about me?" he asked when he answered her call.

"Yeah."

There was a pause of silence. Chuck seemed taken aback by her honesty.

"I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Nice try, but I think we missed the moment," she said. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something else."

"I thought you were better than that."

Vanessa let out a long sigh. "I know, I know. I am better than that. She just gets to me."

"She gets to us all," Chuck responded, knowing after the words left his lips that it was the absolute wrong thing to say.

"Never mind Bass. I can handle my own business."

"Wait. Wait. I think I can help, but you would have to be prepared to get dirty."

"I thought about that. Don't think I am not prepared to play her game, but she'd see right through it. I mean, she's Blair. You gotta give her some credit."

"Well, let me ask you this. Do you want to get her because she's Blair or because she's Blair making out with Nate?" Chuck waited patiently for her answer.

"Because she's Blair. The Nate thing. I don't know where that was going, but we both know she's only using him. She's using him to get to us. We can't let her do that."

"Why?"

"Because Nate is in a very emotionally unstable place, with the feds and his dad and the money. Blair should know better," Vanessa said. "Plus, you deserve better than a girl who would make out with another guy to get you in her bed."

"I deserve better?" he chuckled. "You know that was the same game I was gonna play on you, right?"

"Yeah, I just happen to like you better than her. I'll forgive you the horny boy antics, but I won't forgive her."

"Quite a double standard," he said.

"I guess I think us women should stick together."

"That's not what you think."

"No, it's not. I just think she deserves the worst."

"You realize the feelings that are there? That I won't hurt her?" he asked Vanessa.

Vanessa held her breath and held back a tear. She knew Chuck would never intentionally hurt her, and to be honest Vanessa did not want to hurt her, only humiliate her.

"I know," Vanessa reassured him. "That's not what I need from you. I just need you to introduce me to a few people."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"And what do I get?" he asked, his voice going baritone. Vanessa knew he was trying to be sexy and sly.

"You get the pleasure of my company."

Chuck waited, as if thinking about his answer. "That's good enough for me."

Over the course of the weekend Chuck took Vanessa to several functions all across New York. They walked arm in arm down carpets and into the best restaurants and hottest clubs. They were becoming a socialite couple, and even though it was fake Vanessa could not help but be impressed by Chuck's power in such circles. He held a room, he captivated people. Sometimes he captivated her.

Chuck told people of Vanessa's innumerable talents as an artist. He told of her skills as a short filmmaker and a photographer and then invited the rich elite to the Humphrey gallery to take a gander at her work (work she had to beg Rufus to put on display in a corner by the washrooms). Then Chuck made it seem as if the only art worth producing or having was hers. Vanessa knew she was good, she didn't need the rich to tell her that, but she also knew she was not their taste. But like a lemming to water, they all suddenly took an interest in Vanessa. If Bart and Lily's son liked her, perhaps she was worth liking.

Still, Chuck had warned her of his reputation, warned her that he could only help her get her foot in the door. He bought all the expensive clothes and printed up her business cards. He got her a car and driver to take her from place to place that weekend and funded the collection that was hanging in the gallery, as well as a portfolio of her work. Chuck could not help her stay in the door, stay in the spotlight….that would be her job alone. However, he could help her make a damn good impression when she did.

Vanessa had tried to refuse the money, the clothes, the car. She had wanted Chuck's help, but she did not want to be his charity case. Each time she turned down a gift there was a greater one coming right behind it. Why was he doing this? Why did he care so much? Vanessa wasn't sure, but all the attention, all the money, was making her feel dirty. She told herself that no matter what she couldn't let a weekend of frivolity and luxury change her.

It was all a carefully contrived plan after all. It was an idea that Vanessa had gleamed from Jenny Humphrey. Blair did not like it when people she saw as being beneath her moved into her social circles. More importantly Blair did not like it when people she saw as being beneath her moved into a social circle with her own mother. It was a well known fact that Eleanor Waldorf was looking for fresh talent, new blood to spice up her collections. Jenny and others had fit that bill, but Vanessa knew what else she could use, a hip young photographer to capture some of those fashions and bring them to life.

So on the Sunday following her world-wind weekend of parties and champagne, Vanessa met Jenny in the park by the Humphrey house. Jenny had snuck out a few select pieces, some her own and some Eleanor's, for Vanessa to photograph. They had needed models though and while Vanessa knew Blair's posse would not intentionally go behind her back (unless it meant climbing all the way to the top of their heap) she, with the help of Jenny, made a convincing case for them. Isabel, Hazel, and Penelope were more than happy to spend a portion of their Sunday under the bridge, as long as it meant they got to wear expensive clothes and potentially be in an ad campaign. They were also led to believe it was to be a "nice" surprise for Blair. Vanessa was sure they did not buy her homely explanation, but everyone was willing to sacrifice some of their own truth to get what they wanted.

That night in her loft, Chuck looked over the pictures and smiled approvingly.

"This all only took you one weekend. I'm impressed," he said. "But do you really think Upper East siders are going to start clambering for your work now?"

"Of course not," she responded, taking a sip from the hot chocolate Chuck had brought her. "That wasn't the point. I just want my card out there, an ephemeral piece of me wafting through the halls of the rich. Blair would hate that any of them knew my name. And when she spies these pictures she's going to be furious at her girls."

Chuck took a flask from his jacket pocket, a beautiful silver engraved flask. He opened it and then took Vanessa's hot chocolate from her hands. Taking off the lid, he poured some scotch into her drink and then handed it back. Vanessa laughed. Scotch and hot chocolate? She wasn't sure she liked that, but she knew that the alcohol was becoming their thing. She and Chuck had a thing.

Vanessa hopped up on the counter next to Chuck and looked him in the eye taking a sip and smiling. "This isn't what will take her down, it's just step one."

Chuck stopped looking at the photographs and put the flask away before he stood before Vanessa. He placed each hand on either side of her body and leaned in close to her, her face above him. Finally she was looking down at him.

"How many steps are there?" Chuck asked.

"I don't know, but I think you know what the last one is," she said smiling.

"I thought we missed the moment?" he teased.

"Well, break in case of emergency. It's always good to have a back up plan."

Chuck moved his mouth to her neck and swiftly placed a kiss on her bare skin. He could taste a hint of her perfume, soft, floral, but somehow not overtly feminine. It was the right balance between woman and girl. He gently suckled on her neck for a moment or two waiting until he heard that telltale moan escape her lips. When he heard it (it killed Vanessa, but he felt too good not to moan) he released her.

"I'm usually not alright with being someone's back up plan, but I could make an exception for you."

Blair was standing outside the school gates once again as Chuck pulled up, this time it was nine a.m. and no college boys were in sight. He knew she was waiting for him. Chuck got out of the limo and strolled past her, pretending he did not see the look in her eye. He knew what she wanted and he was prepared to give it, but only after a little prodding.

"How was your weekend?" she called after him, catching up to him in the courtyard before the school doors.

"I can't talk now Blair. I'll be late for class."

"Please, Chuck. I know you want to talk and I know you could care less about class."

He turned to face her. God, she looked good. He knew she had spent extra time that morning preparing for this very moment, and he knew she was wearing that bath wash he loved so much. She smelled eerily like Vanessa, but he would never dare tell her that.

"I had a great weekend."

"Did you? Taking your little girlfriend to all the parties. Did you think I wouldn't find out?" she asked, hands on hips.

"Of course you would find out. I wanted you to find out."

"So you wanted to hurt me?"

"Nothing can hurt you."

"You know that's not true," she said silently, looking down momentarily to catch herself and recompose.

"And did you want to hurt me?" Chuck asked, anger growing inside him. He wanted to yell at her, but that would only make things worse between them. Still, she knew he wanted to yell. She was waiting for it.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, pretending to be the innocent bystander in all of this.

"Nate!" Chuck yelled. "I'm talking about Nate. My best friend."

"Best friend? Chuck that ship has sailed. Don't you mean, my ex-boyfriend?"

Chuck hated thinking about how Nate and Blair had been together once, how they had held hands and kissed and fucked.

"I saw the pictures," he told her.

"Of course you did. I wanted you to see the pictures," she moved in closer to him so that the whole school would not see their quarrel or hear his screams. "I wanted you to know that you can go out with Vanessa all you want, but that if or when you do I will go out too. And believe me, the type of men I go out with are going to be shoulders above her. I have dates lined up with Harvard and Yale leaguers, and Mr. Pre-med of course. And then there's Nate. Reliable Nate."

"He knows you're using him," Chuck stated.

"We're using each other Chuck. It's a difficult time. I told him that if he needed a little warmth he knew where to look," as she said the last part she ran her fingers along the line of her blouse, opening it up ever so delicately, teasing him with the sight of her cleavage.

"So this is what we're doing now?" he asked, not sure if he liked the prospect of constant game playing. At least not when the game involved them against one another. Chuck liked it best when it was he and Blair against the world.

"You started this. I asked for a favor and you turned me down."

"That's not what happened and you…."

Blair cut him off. "I heard you saved the bar. Well, got an injunction at least to stop them from demolishing it. Nice work. Remind me again what part of our original plan had you salvaging her dreams? I don't recall us discussing making her feel better, making her feel like she belonged."

"The bar had nothing to do with you. It shouldn't hurt you to know that I was interested in doing something good."

"Something good?" Blair asked incredulously. "You are Chuck Bass. You are not supposed to do "something good". At least not….when it doesn't involve me," the last part she nearly whispered, but Chuck heard her and it stung.

"I have to go to class. I hope you and Nate, and Harvard and Yale, and Mr. Pre-Med have a great day," he said sarcastically.

"Well, at least it's not Lonely Boy's girl. At least I'm not slumming. I hope you wore protection," Blair quipped, purposefully trying to get under his skin.

He took large steps towards her, a flash of anger and a glimmer of victory in his eyes.

"I'm not slumming. I don't slum," he said. He knew Blair understood the implication of his words; the implication that Vanessa was not who Blair thought her to be. That she was better than Nate and the ivy leaguers, and that perhaps he was not ashamed to be with her. Chuck was implying that his relationship with Vanessa had nothing to do with Blair and he knew that would wound her ego.

Blair stood shell-shocked for a moment, taken aback by Chuck's conviction and his defense of that girl.

Then as he started off, finally heading to that elusive class Chuck called back to her, "I never slept with her."

Blair was instantly changed. Chuck knew he had thrown her a bone, given her too much information. He could have held that back, let her sweat, let her suffer. He just couldn't bear it. He did not want her to see him in a different light; see him as used goods. Blair took the news and suddenly lit from within. She smiled wide, then quickly covered it from his sight. She sauntered past from him and headed inside.

Standing in the courtyard alone, Chuck decided to check his cell phone. Even in the midst of his conflicted intentions towards Blair, even as he had tried to sway her back to his side, back in his favor, he wanted to see that Vanessa was also doing well. It was becoming a dangerous game and Chuck suddenly was not sure which team he was playing on.

His work, his help was putting Vanessa's ideas into action, but he was also stealthily trying to warn Blair against harm. What was he doing? The truth he supposed was that he wanted Blair; he would probably do almost anything to get her. But he also wanted Vanessa; he just wasn't sure how he wanted her. And in wanting Vanessa he wanted to help her. Maybe it was because she spoke to him like an actually person. Sometimes when he was with Vanessa he didn't feel like the nefarious Chuck Bass everyone else had made him out to be. Sometimes he was simply Bass.

He shook his head hard, as if trying to tumble the conflicting thoughts from his head. He knew it would not work. Curiosity would always win the day.

Chuck flipped open his cell and hit upon the Gossip Girl blog. There he saw several pictures of Vanessa, Jenny, and the Queen B.'s posse in the park. Vanessa was smiling and laughing. She was beautiful. It wasn't because of the plan or the potential to hurt Blair. Chuck knew she was in her element taking those pictures. He felt proud somehow that he would help people see her work.

Then he read the caption:_ "Is there a new B. in town?"_

Suddenly, he didn't feel so proud.


	6. A Vintage

_Word is Lonely Boy's girl is having a hard time keeping up with Queen B. But you gotta give her some credit; its rare anyone, led alone her, can get under Blair's skin. Chuck's alliance is about to be tested, and my sources tell me he's ready to choose sides. But will he be choosing more than a bedtime pal? My guess is yes. What's yours? XOXO, Gossip Girl._

For days Blair had ruled the school with an iron fist. There was no way she would let her girls out of her sight, no way she would be undermined by them or anyone else. From a distance Chuck watched, over and over, as they quarreled and then made up. He would never understand the female dynamic; then again he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

From his vantage point Blair looked the best she had ever looked. He loved it when she was fired up, when she was bursting with energy, even evil energy. He loved watching her in action.

However, Blair's actions had affected Vanessa and that was starting to eat at him. He and Vanessa had not spoken since she had shown him those photos from the park and now she was in meetings with Eleanor Waldorf and taking calls from the ignorant and rich. As much as he loved seeing Blair rule over the masses, it didn't quite feel the same when Vanessa tried on the look.

The two women had been at odds since they met, but suddenly Vanessa was gaining the upper hand. He name was being mentioned in the halls and at the Waldorf home. Even if Vanessa never became a rich, famous socialite, just the idea was driving Blair mad. And at this point Blair was unsure how to sabotage her, at least not without involving her mother. Too many times Blair had ruined something for her mother, and while it was justifiable at first, their strained relationship might not survive another of her games.

Chuck had wanted to talk to her, to talk to both of them, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Was it guilt? What a strange emotion?

Chuck's cell range, sharply interrupting his contemplation and making him jump. There on the caller id screen was Nate's name. It was time.

They met in Central Park, on a bench by the pond. It was the kind of place people met on dates, or the kind of place people met to break up. Chuck wondered then if this was it for he and Nate. They had grown apart, mostly due to his own feelings for Blair, but could they really be over? Had their brotherhood been shattered beyond repair?

"Long time no see," Nate said greeting Chuck with a nod. He was already waiting on the bench, a coffee in each hand.

Chuck took the coffee and sat down next to him. "Yeah it's been a while, but I guess you're busy with all the family stuff then, huh?"

Nate didn't answer and Chuck immediately felt foolish for bringing up all that pain.

"I'm….I don't know why I asked," Chuck said silently.

"It's cool," Nate responded, playing up a light, calm, casual attitude. Chuck wondered if he was over compensating for how he really felt.

"So I don't want to be rude, but I'm wondering what we are doing here," Chuck said, gesturing to the park, a park littered with couples.

Nate laughed. "I know, I know. I just didn't want to do this at my place, or in a bar or something." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I need to say something important to you so I thought…well, here, I guess."

Chuck nodded in approval and waited for the onslaught.

"The Vanessa thing," Nate started. "I know it didn't really work out. I mean, I know I kinda screwed that up; I left her hanging when all she wanted to do was help. I know that now, and I've forgiven her for…well I don't want to go into it, but I've forgiven her…"

Chuck cut him off, "Does Vanessa know you've forgiven her?"

Nate was silent. "Listen man, the point is, yeah it's done, but I just think you should have told me about you and her. I mean, as a courtesy or whatever."

"I have to run all my dates past you now?"

"When they are all women I've been with, yeah!"

Chuck was hurt by the thought that Nate and Vanessa had had sex. He wasn't sure if it was true. It was something he had never asked anyone about. For him it was easier to believe she had not been with him; it was easier to believe that there was a woman out there he liked who Nate Archibald had not already fucked.

"She came to me. She wanted me," Chuck began.

"Don't give me that. Blair told me about your little bet. Tried to pull a fast one on her," Nate sighed and shook his head. "And now you've got her acting like Blair."

"She is not acting like Blair," Chuck defended resolutely.

"Well, you got her out there in expensive clothes, with a god-damn business card, courting the rich. You know she would have never done something like that, never sold herself like that, if it hadn't been for you."

"Sold herself? Is being rich so bad? I remember a time when you wouldn't have had it any other way," Chuck stated, tossing his still full cup of coffee into the trash as a sign of protest.

"Well, it's not like that anymore."

"Because you're family's broke? I get the whole "don't sleep with my girl" thing, but don't lecture me on the morality of the rich because Daddy Archibald screwed all your money away."

Nate stood up and began to walk away. Chuck wasn't sure if he was relieved or not, if he should go after him or not. Suddenly, Nate turned back and came charging at him. It wasn't to fight though, but it was to play the game.

"Blair and I. We're back on. Starting now."

"What?" Chuck asked, astonished.

"Yeah we kissed. No big deal. I was gonna let her have her fun, because we both needed that, and then that was going to be it. Now? Oh now I'm gonna get more." Nate smirked in Chuck's face. "Now we'll see what kind of game she's willing to play."

"What about Vanessa?"

"What about Vanessa?" Nate shot back. "We had our chance and it didn't work. Blair? Blair and I have a future."

Chuck knew it wasn't true, they both did, but Nate was playing Chuck's game. Nate was saying anything to get at him. Chuck only worried if what he said would turn into action.

"Nice try Nate, but a future? She has a future. You….I don't know."

"Are we gonna do this? Beacause if we are I swear to you, you will lose."

Nate turned around to walk away, but Vanessa blocked his path. She was standing in the park, camera in hand. She was crying. Not a full on, ball of a cry, but both Chuck and Nate could see a few tears stream from her eyes. She only shook her head at them both before turning and briskly walking off.

"Nice," Chuck said as he trotted off past Nate and ran to catch up with her. "Vanessa wait!" He called.

Vanessa did not stop, she only walked faster.

"I think you know I hate to walk," he quipped as he fell into stride beside her.

She stopped suddenly and looked at him. The tears in her eyes were replaced by anger.

"How did this happen?" she asked.

"What? How did what…"

She cut him off. "How did I become this? When did I start caring what you people thought of me?"

She was lumping Chuck into a category that included the worst of the elite. A category led by Blair. As much as he liked, and in so many ways, respected Blair he knew he didn't want Vanessa to see him that way. Too see him as "one of them".

"I just…I can't…I don't," Vanessa was getting flustered. She hated not knowing what to say, what to do, where to go. "I can't do this anymore," she said looking to him and then down to the camera.

"You can't do the photos? The plan? Me?" he asked.

"I can't do any of it Chuck. I'm not Blair Waldorf. And I won't be the girl Nate ends up with. I think he just made that perfectly clear."

"He was just mad at me. He didn't know what he was saying." It startled Chuck that he was defending Nate.

"It doesn't matter. He's not the guy I want," she said.

For a moment they stood on the pathway silent, both contemplating what she had just let slip.

"Is it okay if I stop now?" Vanessa asked.

"Stop what?" Chuck asked, wanting to reach out and touch her, hold her, comfort her. He fought the feeling hard.

"The game."

Chuck shook his head yes. "Of course."

Vanessa walked away, leaving him alone, leaving him behind.

Chuck turned around to see Nate further off down the path, watching them. He looked sad. Chuck knew that there would be nothing between he and Blair; that Nate was just talking, just working Chuck's buttons. Chuck knew Nate had moved on.

Perhaps he was able to pass judgment over Chuck; perhaps Nate was the better of the two. Chuck dared not tell Nate what he thought, or that Vanessa was not going to be the new Queen B. He dared not point out the similarities between the two. He still was unsure if he was that elusive guy; the guy Vanessa truly wanted to be with.

The thought made Chuck startlingly light in his step. Chuck Bass, nearly skipping through Central Park.

"So the whole socialite thing is behind you now?" Dan Humphrey asked his friend Vanessa. They were sharing take out Chinese in the living room of his apartment. Rufus and Jenny were both absent.

"Yeah its over."

"What were you thinking?" he asked, laughing from within.

"I wasn't thinking. That was the problem."

"Well, if it's any consolation I think it was getting to Blair."

She nodded. "I know it was. I could feel the tension when I was talking to Eleanor, like she wanted to say no, but just couldn't."

"At least that means you take good shots," Dan offered taking a bite of General Pao's chicken.

"I guess, no matter how much it bothered Blair, I just wasn't feeling it, you know? I never felt good the whole time. Except when I was taking the pictures. Everything else….it just didn't matter. No matter how much it would have killed her to see me with Chuck, it just wasn't meant to be."

Dan choked back his meal in shock. "Chuck?!"

Vanessa looked to him confused. It had been so long since they had spoken, so long since they had played the mutual roles of best friends that she had forgotten what she had and had not told Dan.

"Yeah. Chuck."

"What about Nate?" Dan asked, sitting upright to fully take in her answer.

"You tell me. He lives here now right?" Vanessa stated. "Where is he anyway?"

"Yeah, he lives here. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't know how it would fly."

Vanessa nodded and took a bite of her own food, thankful it was there so she didn't always have to talk.

"He's with his mom in the Hamptons I think. He came back today all upset about something. I asked, he didn't tell."

Vanessa knew what Nate had been upset about; that confrontation in the park with Chuck. Or maybe it was because of her. Could it be because of her?

They ate their food. Everything between them was suddenly awkward. Dan and Nate friends. Vanessa and Chuck…whatever Vanessa and Chuck were. She was losing herself. It scared her.

When Chuck returned home Blair was already inside, sitting on his bed, bare legs crossed and hanging off the edge seductively.

"Miss me?" he asked tossing his suit coat onto a nearby chair.

"Figures you would ruin all my plans," she said starkly.

"Nate?" Chuck asked.

"He said he didn't want to strain things between us all. When did he get so altruistic?"

Chuck laughed. "I don't know. I guess when we weren't looking things changed." He sat on the bed next to her, placing his hand on her thigh.

"Not everything changed," Blair said, rolling onto her side and placing her hands in his lap.

Chuck looked down at her and smiled. She bit her bottom lip and smiled back.

"Should I ask what we're doing?"

"I won't say the things you need me to say. And I won't be the girl you need me to be. But for tonight the change is a good one," she leaned in and kissed him.

Chuck was unsure of what to do. Normally he was so smooth, so suave, but his hand was still planted on her thigh. The moves he was making were sub-par, but Blair didn't care. Did that mean that she loved him? That she would accept him no matter what? Or did she only want to control him? Was sex another power play?

That fact that Chuck could never be sure of Blair's intentions scared him, but it was also the thing that turned him on the most. He moved his hand from her thigh to her waist and pulled her on top of him.

Vanessa slumped into the only chair that sat in her bare loft and removed the lid from her hot chocolate. She took the bottle of scotch from the floor and poured as much in the cup as possible. The liquid was nearly overflowing. She felt guilty; the bottle was nearly 40 years old. She had taken it from the bar, with permission of course, but under the pretense that she would be giving it as a gift to her mother, or Rufus, or Chuck. She couldn't really say she wanted to sit in her apartment and get drunk off of vintage scotch; she couldn't admit to anyone how hurt she was.

Vanessa sipped the concoction back, faster and faster with each trip to the cup rim. She would be drunk in no time, she was sure. Part of her wanted to call Chuck, but the rational side told her it was probably a mistake. If she were drunk however, that rational side would die.

Her laptop lay open, resting on the arm of the chair. Vanessa had tried not to look, but her curiosity took hold. There on the screen was the latest update from the Gossip Girl site. It showed a picture of Blair, looking gorgeous as usual. Of course they would have a picture of Blair, Vanessa knew how people clamored for news about her. There was a reason she was the Queen B., even if Vanessa hated to admit it.

The picture itself wasn't what got her though. It was the location it was taken. It was the caption underneath that read: _"A Visit to Bass' Bed?"_

Blair was outside Chuck's apartment building; she recognized it now. Taking one last swallow of alcohol Vanessa grabbed her phone and dialed.


	7. An Empty

_Something tells me we haven't seen the last of Chuck and Blair as enemies. They are just too good when they're fighting on opposite sides of the aisle. But what does that mean for the prince? Without a Queen how will he ever become king? Does he even want to? Maybe we should ask Vanessa. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

They didn't have sex. Instead they had the talk. The talk both of them had been anticipating with dread and fear; the talk concerning their unspoken love for one another. What does one do when they know who they want to be with, but the prospect of being with them may ruin everything? What does one say instead of "I love you"?

Chuck let Blair leave, both of them extremely unsatisfied. They had decided the game was more important than their un-confessed love, at least for now. They both realized what it was they saw in one another, where the true heart of their attraction began, and neither wanted to jeopardize it. Still, Chuck couldn't help but mentally take in Blair, photographing her beauty, her sexuality, with his eyes. He feared he might not see it again for a long time.

Other men would have been left to wallow in their pain. Other men would have had to wait for a rebound, as they say, to come along. Chuck Bass was unlike other men. There on his cell phone was a message from Vanessa. A long, rambling, drink-infused message. Chuck couldn't help but smile as he listened to Vanessa tell him their time was up, that she was moving on, and that she didn't care if he slept with Blair or not. Of course she cared, he knew, or she wouldn't have bothered leaving the message.

Was she to be the rebound? He knew that couldn't be true. He had been finding himself thinking about Vanessa even before he realized Blair was to be put on the back burner. He and Vanessa had a certain chemistry. It was unlike his chemistry with Blair, less sexual, less catty, less clear, but it existed non-the-less. Was now the time to explore it?

Chuck found Vanessa curled up in the lone chair in her loft, wrapped in that familiar flannel blanket. Her hair was strewn about the arm of the chair and her right leg was kicked out over the other. She looked uncomfortable, but peaceful somehow. Chuck helped himself to the bottle of scotch on the floor, taking a small swig before returning it to the kitchen counter. Resting carelessly on the granite he stomped his foot loudly on the hardwood floor, hoping to rouse her from sleep. Vanessa moaned groggily and tried to change her position, only getting further lodged in the chair. Chuck laughed to himself and stomped again.

"What?!" Vanessa barked, not sure who or what she was speaking to .

"Get up," Chuck commanded. "We sleep for nothing."

Vanessa stretched large, her body contorting out of form and out of the chair. She fell hard on the floor.

"Ohhhh," Chuck sighed. "That had to hurt."

"You think?" Vanessa asked as she rubbed her ass and upper thigh. She blew the thick brown curls from her eyes and attempted to stand. It didn't take. She fell hard again.

"Need help?" Chuck asked starting towards her.

Vanessa held up her hand and halted his advance. "No. No. No. I can do this. I may be….hung over, but I can stand." She asserted herself in long, slow annunciations, as if she was trying to remember what the words meant. She was more than hung over. She was still drunk.

Despite her protests Chuck found himself at her side helping her up. She took his aide, but once back on her feet she swiftly pushed him away.

"See. I told you I could do it," she stated as she stumbled toward the bathroom.

"Yeah, good job," Chuck said sarcastically. He took another look at that scotch bottle and realized it was now empty. Vanessa had had a bad night. He smiled at the thought. He couldn't help but feel that her bad night meant she really liked him.

Vanessa pushed through the bathroom door and fell to her knees before the toilet. From his position near the chair Chuck could hear her vomit. The old Chuck would have left, would have thought a girl throwing up was either a girl to take advantage of or a girl he already had. Yet, with Vanessa it was different. He didn't want to go hold back her hair, but he was contemplating taking her to breakfast. The change felt good.

"How you feeling?" Chuck called to her.

"Not good," she shouted back.

"Do you….need…anything?" he asked reluctantly.

She opened the bathroom door and joined him in the living room. "I need aspirin."

"Right." He moved to the kitchen, she directed him to the cupboard above the fridge. He found a bottle of aspirin and returned to her side. Vanessa swallowed three tablets dry and fell back into the chair.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, pulling the flannel blanket back around her shoulders and over her head like a hood.

"I got your message."

Vanessa's brain hurt at the memory of that terribly embarrassing voice mail message. She brought her hands to her temples and rubbed hard.

"It wasn't that dreadful," he reassured her smiling. "I kinda liked it. Who knew you wanted me so bad?"

"You're dreaming," Vanessa said silently.

"One of those dreams that comes true," he smirked.

"I need a shower," Vanessa moaned, ignoring Chuck's advances.

"I can join you."

"What is wrong with you? I thought you got my message. I thought you understood."

"I do understand," he replied.

"Then what are you really doing here, because I thought I made it clear I was done playing your games."

"The thing is, you made that clear before the message. You made that clear when you left me in the park. So what was the message for, if not to let me know that the game wasn't over?"

"You are enjoying this way too much."

"I suppose I am."

The previous night had taken its toll on Vanessa. Of course she had called him because it wasn't over, it wasn't even close to being over. Still, she had been hoping in her drunken haze that Chuck would have answered the phone. If he had she was prepared to tell him everything, tell him her desire for him, and her need to have him over with her, contorted in the chair next to her drunk naked body.

The scotch was making her brave. But he didn't answer his phone, and when that voice mail prompted her to leave a message Vanessa's anger got the best of her. Where was he? Who was he with? She knew, and hated that she cared. In her brave state she decided to leave a diatribe of regret and disbelief on that cell phone. She decided to say goodbye to Chuck Bass.

The problem was, there was no saying goodbye to Chuck Bass. He said goodbye to you. Vanessa wondered if this had been her plan all along. To string him towards her, to use the alcohol to garner his sympathy. It couldn't have been. She wasn't in any state of mind to formulate a plan, led alone carry one out.

"I need a shower," she said again. This time Chuck stayed quiet. He could see the confusion on her face. Was she confused about him? What could he do?

Chuck decided to halt his flirting and offer his hand. Vanessa took it and again struggled to stand up. Quickly, she moved in to kiss him, as if she wanted to do it fast enough so her brain could not have time to protest. But the scotch got the best of her and she held back her sick. Pushing away from him Vanessa ran back to the bathroom.

Chuck sighed and sat in that chair. Even as the alcohol poured from her pores Chuck could still smell her perfume on the flannel. He loved it.

Vanessa's laptop lay open on the floor, the Gossip Girl blog up and on. There was another picture of Blair, this time of her leaving his apartment, her eyes red. He knew the picture had been taken after their talk the previous night and he felt momentarily sorry that everyone would know a portion of their secrets.

The caption read: _"The Queen does cry."_

Had he done the right thing? Listening to Vanessa heave and moan from the bathroom he wondered if this was what it meant to be a boyfriend. If he wasn't going to share that experience with Blair what made him think he could with Vanessa? What was happening to him?

Chuck swiftly got out of the chair and made his way to the door. He had made a mistake; he had leapt before he had thought. Now was the time to halt it all.

On his way out the door Chuck bumped hard into a side table. Vanessa's keys and a series of flyers fell to the floor. As he bent down to pick up the mess he realized the flyers were new, recently printed, they still smelled of pressed paper and ink. They were heralding the return of that dive bar in Brooklyn. And printed at the bottom of each bright paper it read: "All thanks to Chuck Bass." His heart caught in his throat.

He couldn't, wouldn't be her boyfriend, but Chuck suddenly knew his interest in Vanessa was not because of the thrill of the game.


	8. A Souvenir

_Don't you just love New York when the seasons change? The wind gets cold and the relationships between the city's elite get even frostier. But I have a hunch Chuck Bass is thinking up ways to keep himself warm this winter, even if he won't admit it. Don't be ashamed, we all go slumming, and we all need a little heat now and then. I know I do. XOXO, Gossip Girl. _

Chuck didn't attend the grand opening of the bar. He had said he would, but never showed. He just couldn't face her. It had been almost three weeks seen he'd seen her last and she was just beginning to fade from memory…or at least her smell was beginning to fade from his clothes.

When Vanessa called for help with Nate, with the whole FBI/father Archibald debacle, Chuck could not hold back. He had to go to her, even if it pained him to look her in the eye, knowing he had been ignoring her for so long. At first he was relieved all she wanted to speak of was Nate, but eventually the novelty wore off and he began to get jealous. Jealous? He could barely stand himself sometimes.

When Vanessa and Nate finally said their goodbyes, lingering on every word, staring into one another's eyes, Chuck wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl his body between them. He wanted to make it all stop. Instead he watched and smiled and even winked to Nate knowingly as they both watched her walk away. Instead of deceiving, an act he was all too accustomed to, Chuck actually tried to be a friend.

The feeling did not last long.

Despite herself, Vanessa had texted Chuck several times following their encounter with Nate. At first Chuck was sure she only wanted to play school girl games, to ask him if he knew if Nate still liked her, or maybe to pass a note to him in study hall. Chuck ignored her texts, and then her calls. But it turned out she was inquiring of his whereabouts, asking if he was alright. She was reaching out to him to say thank you and all Chuck could do was hide.

After a few days she stopped calling and Chuck knew he was missing his chance. But something held him back, something always held him back. It was a reoccurring problem, one that was becoming bothersome and boring. And he had no one to talk to about it.

Where was Nate when he needed him? Where was Blair? Or his Dad?

He and Nate spoke more than they used to, it felt good, familiar. Still, Nate was wrapped up with his own family drama and so intent on protecting his mother that they never delved into any deep conversations. The talking they did do was usually about school or girls or Chuck's dad's latest acquisition, some club they could easily get into without ID.

Chuck and Blair still spoke as well. All the time in fact. They flirted shamelessly in the halls and sent naughty texts to one another, but both had resolved themselves to staying just friends. Chuck had heard through Serena that Blair was dating again, or at least attempting to. Perhaps she was competing with Serena's new relationship or looking for an excuse to get out of her suddenly crowded house, but she didn't share that side of herself with Chuck anymore. And he knew he could not talk to her about Vanessa.

While Bart Bass had said he wanted a closer relationship with his son, one ball game could not fix a lifetime of ignorance. Chuck still was not ready to open up to him. Besides, given Bart's investigative prowess he probably already knew all about Chuck's growing crush.

He would simply wait it out. Wait to see if she came back to him again. And if she did then it mean that they had something there, something worth pursuing.

"Wait it out?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow.

"Wait it out? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Chuck scoffed and threw off his tie and jacket, setting himself on his bed, arms folded behind his head.

Eric sat down in the desk chair and whirled toward Chuck. "I mean, really. How can _you_ wait it out?"

"What does that mean?" Chuck asked defensively, a threat hiding just behind his lips.

"Don't go all Brando on me," Eric said, somehow knowing the intent behind Chuck's words. Were they actually becoming brothers? No, Chuck thought, just a lucky guess on the kid's part.

"This is the best solution. Minimal work for me, and if I'm lucky, a girl in the end."

"If you're lucky? Boy you really like Vanessa, don't you?" Eric was smiling wide, as if he had suddenly discovered a new Chuck Bass.

"That's not what I meant," Chuck assured, sitting up as if to assert himself, assert his denials. He reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a small bottle of scotch. He was having too much scotch lately, but it reminded him or her. He fumbled with the bottle in his hands, never opening it, just treating it as a souvenir, a symbol of something he had and wanted again.

"I'm not judging, I'm just observing. And I observe that this wait and see plan is a huge mistake."

"You'll understand one day…" Chuck began.

"Oh, please. Don't give me the big bro lecture. We're not that close and you don't know that much."

Chuck couldn't help but chuckle. Eric really had attitude. Perhaps it comes from growing up with a mom like Lily and a sister like Serena. Tucked between two wild childs and then tucked into a mental institution can only help the snappy comebacks, and Eric had them in spades.

"Alright then, what would you do?" Chuck couldn't believe he was asking Eric's advice. But who else was there? Who else really cared?

"Me?" Eric seemed shocked. "Well, I…um…"

"Don't stammer, just speak."

"I would tell her."

Chuck tossed his head back in protest and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. The tiny bottle was stuffed down there too, he could feel it pressing against his leg and it soothed him.

"Okay, okay. You said, what I would do. And I would tell her." Eric stood attempting to look Chuck eye to eye, but he was several inches too short. "You almost kissed, she thanked you at the bar opening and trusted you to help Nate. She's been calling. She likes you, it's obvious she likes you."

"What about Nate?"

"She likes him too."

"Thanks."

"You like Vanessa and Blair. It's possible to care for two people at the same time. It's possible to love more than once," Eric fell back into the chair again and let his feet rest on the edge of Chuck's bed. "The worst that happens is she says no, she says she won't date you."

"I never said I wanted to date her," Chuck responded, sitting next to Eric's sock-clad feet.

"Well then what are we talking about?"

Chuck raised his eyebrow once more.

"Seriously? You're asking me how to get her into bed?"

"What!? No," Chuck stated loudly. "I can get laid anytime I want."

"Oh please," Eric let out, rolling his eyes.

"I just wanted you to help me…to help…" Chuck couldn't finish; he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he wanted.

"Well…"

"I just wanted you to help…" Chuck sighed. "Fuck. I want to date her. Yes. I want to date her."

"I should have bet on it," Eric said.

Chuck had asked women out before, lots of women. But he had never really liked any of them, liked them for anything other than their breasts, or hips, or hair. He barely even knew their names. He had asked women out before, but Vanessa was not just any woman. He had come to understand over the last few months that she was different, in the best possible way.

That difference could, would, make it work.

Chuck felt a twinge of hypocrisy coarse through his veins. He had told Blair no, told her he could never be the boyfriend. He had spent weeks convincing himself that he had made the best decision, a decision that would prevent him from dating Vanessa as well. It was the reason he had not answered her texts and calls and now he was preparing to go against all he believed. He was about to break Blair's heart.

Standing outside of the gallery, his limo nowhere in sight, Chuck waited in the New York cold for Vanessa to exit work. He felt foolish and against his better judgment decided to venture inside. It was unlike him to pursue a woman like this, usually they pursued him.

Swallowing his pride Chuck entered the gallery and made his way to the coffee bar. He didn't hear her or see her, and wondered if maybe she had made a quick escape out the back door.

Then Chuck turned the corner.

There, standing just beyond the counter, Vanessa and Nate were wrapped in each other's arms, tightly gripping each other's backs, no space within their hug. Chuck took a step back, but he did not leave, instead hiding himself behind the wall edge and slyly spying on the action. Together Vanessa and Nate breathed in and out, their bodies rising and falling as one unit. Together they gave another squeeze and each let out a sigh. Together they pulled apart, just slightly, and kissed.

Chuck stepped back again, his eyes fixated on Vanessa he did not notice the gallery patrons behind him. As his body forced them back into the wall there was a crash and gasp which drew Vanessa and Nate out of their cocoon.

Chuck caught Vanessa's eye. For a moment they stared at one another, shock awash on their faces. But Chuck quickly retreated, fleeing from the gallery and out onto the street.

"Wait!"

Chuck kept walking.

"Wait!"

He pretended he could not hear.

"Wait!"

Suddenly Vanessa was before him, her hands resting on his chest pushing him back, trying to make him stay. Chuck attempted to dodge her, but she blocked his every more.

"Wait. Just listen."

Chuck reached for her hands to peel them off, but she only held on to his fingers, her grip strong, determined.

"I thought we said we weren't gonna do this anymore. Chase after each other. I thought we were done with that," she offered him a smile, probably trying to calm him down he rationalized.

"I guess were done with everything," he began.

"Shut up. Just shut up Chuck."

She pushed him back hard, back toward the gallery and up against the building's brick wall.

"You don't get to talk now. I waited for you to come around, I waited long enough, and if I want to hug or kiss or…whatever…with Nate, that is my business and mine alone. I waited for you to come to your senses and you didn't."

"I didn't know you were waiting," Chuck stated somberly.

"Oh please. The great Chuck Bass…he knows when he's wanted. And I wanted you."

"Wanted?"

"Yes, past tense. Wanted!"

They stood silently for a moment, but it was too much for Vanessa, Chuck could see the resolve melting from her face.

"Want."

Chuck could not help but smile.

"Don't smile. Don't. I'm still mad at you."

"At me? I'm not the one who was examining an Archibald."

"Neither was I. You're so stupid sometimes Chuck. He likes Jenny. He likes Jenny and not me. I'm the fall back girl and I know it now. We were hugging goodbye, kissing goodbye. We were ending that part of our relationship. I'm not with Nate. I'm not going to be with Nate. I've just, I've been waiting."

Chuck looked deep into her eyes. "You are not the fall back girl."

Vanessa smiled.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I heard you were waiting," he retorted.

Vanessa slapped him hard on the arm and let out a full belly laugh. Chuck loved to see her laugh.

"Are you gonna ask me out already?"

Chuck paused. He had so many thoughts running through his head, so many columns of yes and no, or pro and con. He had excuses already lined up for easy use, but he also had that feeling. The strangled heart feeling, where just looking at that person takes your breath away.

"Vanessa, would you like to go out with me?"

Chuck stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted on his heels waiting impatiently for her reply.

"No."

Vanessa turned away from him and made her way back to the gallery, ascending the stairs to the main door. Chuck stood defeated, his head hung low. He fumbled for his phone so he could retrieve his limo and get out of the slums. He needed to be back with his own kind.

"Hey Bass!" Vanessa called to him from the steps.

Chuck looked up to her.

"Would you like to go out with me?" she smiled wide and bright, her eyebrow raised, a glint of mischief in her eye.

Chuck sighed heavily. "You just wanted to make me work for it?"

"Yes or no Bass, I don't have all day."

"Yes!" Chuck called to her.

She winked and headed inside.

Suddenly, Chuck felt lighter on his feet. He almost felt like walking home…almost.

He called Vanessa later that night. He knew it reeked of desperation, but somehow he could not help himself. Only she did not answer. For the next three days she did not answer. After all that work, all that time, all those uncharted feelings, he was being stood up. Chuck Bass had never been stood up.

For those days he moved through school and home filled with ego. He needed to prove his worth. He was especially unkind to Eric and Serena, more than caddy to Blair, actually forcing her to swear off contact with him (although it wasn't the first time she had made that empty threat), and rude to Lily and Bart. Chuck did not care what happened or what people thought. He needed to concentrate on getting his manhood back.

_My spies tell me Chuck would have gotten that manhood back if not for the call from Lonely Boy. The call telling him Vanessa was in the hospital. The call that changed Chuck Bass for life. XOXO, Gossip Girl. _


	9. A Single Malt

_What do you do when you hear your maybe, could be, kinda is girlfriend has landed in the hospital? Well if your Chuck Bass you head to the Queen B herself. My spies tell me they caught Bass in the bell's apartment, looking forlorn and in search of a good hug. Hopefully, he gets all that he needs. I mean, 'tis the season, right? XOXO, Gossip Girl. _

Blair stepped off the elevator and into her luxurious apartment to find Chuck sitting on the edge of the steps that led upstairs. It looked as if he has been thinking about venturing up, his coat strewn on the upper steps, but had decided against it, given their new-found resolve to just be friends. Either way, he looked sad, almost beaten down and that was not like Chuck Bass.

Blair walked over to him quickly tossing her purse aside and bent down to her knees. She picked his face up in her hands and looked at him with concern and sympathy. Chuck was unsure what to say, what to do. He had half expected her to come in and rant at him, flirt with him, prod with him at least a little. He didn't want her sympathy, he wanted his Blair.

Chuck pulled her hands away and stood up, he strode away from her and towards the elevator.

Blair stood and attempted to follow, but he put his hand out to stop her.

"What?" she asked incredulously. "What is going on here?"

"Nothing." He spoke matter-of-factly, trying to gain back some of his control, his edge.

"Nothing?" Blair chuckled. "Really? You're just taking a breather here on my steps? My indoor steps! Right, and I'm on my way back from helping the homeless."

Chuck shot her a crooked smile.

"What happened?"

"I got a call a little while ago…I guess it just threw me."

Blair took a step away from him, as if his honesty was physically pushing her back. "What kind of call?"

Chuck cleared his throat, swallowed his pain, and turned on his heels with swiftness and class. "Never mind. Tell me, how was your day?" He smiled playfully at her.

Blair walked to the drawing room and gently laid herself down on the lounge. She made sure to press her breasts out as she did and whip her long brown hair back. Chuck took full notice as he moved to stand above her.

"Oh," she sighed mockingly. "It was just so stressful. I had to save Nate from his father's devious and illegal acts. Then I went to a ball game, I needed the pretzel carbs after that fast. And I topped it all off with a family Thanksgiving, minus the family." Blair sat up and looked Chuck in the eye. "Oh no, wait. That was you."

"Cute," Chuck began.

"Gorgeous," Blair corrected. "And I wouldn't have to tease if only you had filled me in on all the juicy details yourself. I thought we were attempting the friends thing here."

"Sorry, but I'm just not ready to dish about college guys and braid each others hair."

Chuck sat down in the chair across from her and looked towards the window. He knew Blair was checking him out and he tilted his head back as if to catch the afternoon light.

"Please Chuck, you're not that good looking," Blair said.

Chuck loved how well she knew him. "That's not what you said the last time we…"

"I think I'll stop you right there," Blair said standing and walking toward the kitchen. She failed to ask Chuck to follow, but he did anyway. "You want something?"

"Scotch," Chuck stated.

"Will that be single malt or blended?" She asked.

"Single…"

"Incredible," she cut him off. "You really think I'm going to serve you alcohol at two in the afternoon?"

"Yes. I know you're good for it."

"My mother's good for it. I prefer clear alcohol. And I prefer sober houseguests, so if you're lucky, you can have a water."

Chuck held his hands up briefly in a mock cheer of excitement as Blair pushed a bottle of water across the counter toward him.

"You know, these are bad for the environment," Chuck stated as he took his first swallow.

"I can't be bothered to keep filling up glasses. And if I absolutely have to, I have Dorota."

"I'm surprised you don't get her to loosen all the bottle caps for you," Chuck said.

"Oh, she already did."

They sat on opposite sides of the huge marble covered kitchen island and drank their water in silence. After each sip they would look to one another, as if to make sure the other was still there. It continued until Chuck was finished his bottle, crushing the plastic in his hand like paper.

"Thirsty?"

"Something like that," he responded.

"Ok, I've waited long enough. I gave you what you wanted so now you have to tell me what's going on."

"Water isn't what I wanted," he stated.

"I meant the witty banter," Chuck looked to her, his eyes open wide. "I know what you need."

"You always do."

Chuck walked briskly out of the kitchen and back toward the elevator. Blair chased after, her heels clinking on the floor.

"Wait!" she cried.

Chuck's stomach turned. That word, he had heard that word too many times. And what good did it do to wait? Look what waiting had gotten him.

"I know things are different now. I know we had…a moment…but if you need me I'm here."

Chuck turned to look at her. "I don't need you."

Blair shot him a sad yet strong look. "You always say just the right thing, don't you?"

Blair walked over to the stairs and picked up Chuck's forgotten coat. He held his hands out to receive it, but instead Blair threw it hard in his face.

"Get out," she said softly. "Get out."

He did.

Why had he gone there? What was he thinking? What had he expected her to do?

It had only been two hours since he had gotten the call and his first instinct had been to go to Blair. What did that mean? And why was he then pushing her away?

Why hadn't he asked Dan what happened? Why hadn't he gone to the hospital?

Why did he love arguing with her so much?

Chuck pushed all the thoughts away, violently trying to wash them from his mind. He would have to find out what was going on, he would bite the bullet and let everyone know that he did care. He would have to call Dan back and ask why Vanessa was in the hospital. And then he would have to visit her.

Being this new Chuck Bass was almost more than he could take.

Dan hadn't explained what happened when he finally called him from the limo. All that was said was that she had asked for him, asked for Chuck. The knowledge made Chuck feel good, like a protector of some sort, the man girls need when they need a good man. But Dan was vague on everything else. Perhaps it was because of their tenuous history, or maybe Chuck's threatening and accusatory phone tone, or maybe Vanessa needed to explain it to him herself. Either way, Chuck was headed to New York Presbyterian Hospital, room 4E.

Chuck hated the smell of hospitals, but then again, didn't everybody? He hated the look too, all white, void of personality, void of life. It was as if they were asking people to die.

The room wasn't hard to find, it was the gift shop he had trouble with. After ten minutes of searching he gave up. He knew it wouldn't look good, but he couldn't be bothered to get balloons or a teddy bear for her when he wasn't sure what was wrong. Maybe she hated balloons. How was he to know?

Rufus Humphrey was sitting outside the room. His legs stretched out into the hall, like he was preparing to trip an orderly, his arms flopped on either side of his body. A look of stress and needed sleep painted on his face. Chuck considered turning around and leaving, but Rufus had caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye. It was too late to leave now.

"Chuck?" Rufus asked. Chuck was sure it wasn't meant to be a question, but then again he couldn't blame the elder Humphrey for being surprised at his presence.

"Mr. Humphrey."

"Rufus, please, call me Rufus," he said as he slid over one seat to leave room for Chuck.

"How long have you been here…Rufus?" Chuck asked as he sat down.

"A few hours. I don't know. In a place like this time seems to just blend."

"I think that happens everywhere."

Rufus laughed a tiny laugh and gently nudged Chuck on the shoulder. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"So, do you know what…"

Rufus cut him off. "She asked for you. That's all I know."

"I meant why is she…"

"Oh, right. Dan didn't tell you?"

"Dan and I aren't exactly friends," Chuck began.

"You don't have to be friends to be civil."

Chuck nodded in agreement.

"And you don't have to be friends to both care about the same woman."

Dan exited room 4E and was surprised to find Chuck sitting with his father.

"I didn't think you would show," Dan said, his nose turned up.

"Dan," Rufus warned and Dan quickly lowered his head.

"Whatever. You're here I guess that's all that matters."

Chuck stood up to follow Dan into the room, but first grabbed his arm and held him back.

"What happened?"

"She was leaving the gallery, closing up last night, and some guys jumped her. Robbery or something. She hasn't really spoken about it much. She looks…ok, considering. And I think they're gonna let her out tomorrow. Just…be nice."

"I'm always nice," Chuck said seriously.

Dan laughed despite his better judgment. "Right. Of course you are."

Dan opened the door and let Chuck enter. He did not follow.

Vanessa was awake, laying in bed and flipping thorough a book. Chuck liked that she wasn't reading a magazine, some tabloid trash, supermarket junk. From his angle it looked like a large book too.

"Biography of Hattie Wyatt Caraway. First woman elected to the senate," Vanessa said without looking up from her book.

Chuck was relieved to hear her voice was intact. As he got closer though, he could see the bruises on her face, her left eye swollen.

"It's not a big deal," she said still reading. "I'll be fine."

"Well you look fine."

Vanessa looked to him and smiled. She instantly winced, and caught her bruised lip and cheek in hand.

"Too early for smiling," Chuck noted.

"No, not to early. I like it," she went back to her book.

Chuck wondered if she was intentionally trying not to look at him; if she was trying to hide her wounds.

"I'm still a little embarrassed," she said. It was as if she could tell what he was thinking. It was as if she knew him…knew him like Blair knew him.

"Dan says you're out tomorrow."

"Dan? Using his first name, that's a big step for you."

"Well I thought given the circumstances…"

Vanessa cut him off. "Don't act differently because I look like this, because this happened."

"I meant because his Dad's out there. And he seems like an ok guy."

"Oh…sorry."

"Don't worry. I expect there will be a lot of misunderstandings in our future."

Chuck hated that he had just said that. He hated that the allusion of the future was now wafting between them. Thankfully Vanessa kept quiet, and he realized maybe she hated it too.

"Well, I just came by to see that you were ok."

"I am."

"Ok."

Vanessa smiled again, this time a small smile so as not to stretch her bruises. "This is awkward."

"Yes," he replied honestly.

"I was thinking, since this happened, since…well I was thinking maybe that date…"

"We should cancel," Chuck blurted out. He looked up to her wounded face. "Or at least postpone."

"Yeah…um huh. That's what I was thinking," she said, but Chuck wasn't sure it that was true. "Postpone."

"Postpone. Right. Until you get better."

"Ok."

Chuck smiled to her self-consciously and then headed to the exit. He stopped at the door, his hand on the handle. "Why did you ask for me?"

"What?"

Chuck turned back to her. "Why did you ask Humph…Dan, to call me?"

Vanessa paused for a moment, her hands clutching the book. "I just wanted to see you."

"Thank you," Chuck said. He wasn't sure why he had said it, or what it meant, but he did. "Thank you."

Vanessa nodded to him and then buried her head back in the book. As Chuck opened the door he was sure he could hear her crying, but he didn't turn back. He left her, all alone.

_Well we all know hospital food is a great aphrodisiac so I'm sure these two will be together in no time. But just in case black and blue is not Chuck's style, there's someone else waiting in the wings. And between you and me, I think that's how Daddy Bass always wanted it. XOXO, Gossip Girl. _


	10. A Pure Malt

_I'm about to do something I never do: refer to a Brooklynite by name. But Lonely Boy's BFF, or "Vanessa" as she likes to be called, deserves a little love given all she's been through. I hear her brush with the dark side was not a robbery gone wrong, but a well planned attack to protect a reputation. But since the Humphrey's have no reputation to speak of and this "Vanessa" doesn't have many friends, who's reputation could it be? And who is the protector? Well I know who my money's on. Care to take a wager? XOXO, Gossip Girl._

He hadn't even gotten her a gift. No flowers, no teddy bear, no balloons. She loved balloons.

And where was her scotch. She was sure he'd bring some. Pure malt to be sure.

And what was that talk about the future. What future? He was Chuck Bass after all. She liked him, more than liked him, and her body could not deny that she wanted him, badly…but a future? They hadn't even had a date, not a real one anyway.

Plus, he bolted. She knew it, he knew. He fled, got scared, or disgusted, or something. Vanessa wasn't sure, but she knew he had bolted. Could she really blame him? She wasn't looking so good, and her competition was Blair Waldorf after all.

The journey back to the Humphrey loft was a long one, each bump in the road made her wince in pain. Bruised ribs hurt more than she had ever though they would. On top of that her skin was sore, her body tender, her throat on fire, and her eyes swollen. She pretended it didn't hurt, but of course it did, and pretending could only take her so far.

"Ahhhh," she let out as the cab bounded out of another pothole.

"He could you please slow it down?" Dan asked the cabbie from behind the plexi-glass. The cabbie ignored him, eager to get on to his next fare.

"It's ok," Vanessa reassured her best friend. "It doesn't really hurt."

Dan nodded knowingly. There was no lying to a Humphrey, Vanessa knew that.

"We'll get you home and get you to bed."

"It's cool, I don't need to you fawn all over me."

"I'm not, I'm just trying to…"

"I know you are and I appreciate it, but I could have survived at my own place."

"Without your mom around?" Dan asked as the cab pulled up to the curb. "I think not."

Rufus was waiting on the sidewalk to greet her and help her inside. Jenny was nowhere in sight. Vanessa couldn't help but wonder if she was with Nate. Stupid Jenny. Stupid Nate. Why had she let that happen? Why hadn't she fought for him?

The day Chuck found her and Nate hugging in the gallery was the day Vanessa revealed to Nate that she still had feelings for him, real feelings, that refused to go away. She wasn't even sure if it was true, but she had to see how he felt about her. Vanessa had been hoping her declaration would shock Nate into realizing she was the girl for him, but his sheepish smile and darting eyes told her he wanted to run, just as Chuck had run. It was a never-ending string of fleeing guys: Dan, Nate, Chuck. So they hugged, without words, and then she kissed him.

Lying to Chuck was easy. Telling him it was a goodbye kiss just slipped from her lips. Telling Nate later that she had reassured Chuck everything between the three of them was fine, was equally done with ease. Vanessa was turning into a Blair in training, attempting to juggle two guys. It wasn't that she wanted them both, it was that she was afraid of getting left behind. One was better than none and she hated that feeling.

But which one did she like the best? The answer was obvious and it made Vanessa feel terrible for having tried to play a game that was out of her league in the first place. But the damage had already been done.

That night she was preparing to close the gallery, cleaning the service area and finishing paperwork, there had been a late arrival. A man in a business suit, unthreatening, unfortunately overlooked. Vanessa let him wander about, knowing that big-wig art buyers kept their own timelines, and that if she wanted a sale she would have to play by his rules.

Too bad he wasn't a buyer…and too bad he didn't live by any rules she knew of.

The attack was swift, Vanessa was sure it wad not meant to be violent, just scary, as if the sight of some assassin-type man would shock her from past behaviour. Because that was what he wanted, what he told her. But she refused to listen. Instead she screamed, kicked, threw. She made a bad situation much worse, and it plagued her thoughts as she got out of the cab and wrapped herself in Rufus's hug.

If she had just left it alone, left Chuck alone, would all this be happening now?

Lying snuggly in Dan's bed, wrapped in comforters with a heating pad on her stomach and a cool cloth on her forehead, Vanessa only had time…time to think of what had been done.

She told the police and Dan and Rufus that it was a robbery gone wrong. Told them all that she had fought and had gotten beat. She lied.

After the words slipped out she wasn't sure where they had come from, wasn't sure what good lying was going to do. Perhaps she was protecting him, but why? He would never know the difference. Never know the truth.

Jenny silently entered the room, but she wasn't stealthy enough for Vanessa. They caught each other's eyes and Jenny smiled.

"How you feeling?" Jenny asked.

"Fine."

"I figured," Jenny said sitting on the edge of the bed. "People always say fine."

"Do they?" Vanessa asked.

"Are you mad at me?" Jenny asked suddenly.

Vanessa wondered if she was. Was she mad that Jenny and Nate had kissed? Had liked one another? Maybe still liked one another? Could she be mad at someone for following their desires? Their heart?

No.

Vanessa wasn't mad anymore, because she now understood.

"I'm not mad."

"Are you sure, because…"

"Jenny, I'm not mad. We like the same guy…liked the same guy. What are we gonna do right?"

Jenny seemed taken aback. It was the first time either had confessed any mutual feelings for Nate, but the way Vanessa saw it, honesty was the only way to go in a situation such as this.

"And Chuck?" Jenny asked.

Vanessa was shocked. "Chuck? What about Chuck?"

"Dan told me you wanted him there, with you, in the hospital." Jenny moved in closer to Vanessa taking her cloth and turning it over, so the cold side was pressed down on her skin. "I just thought it was weird that you would want him."

"I don't want him!" Vanessa shouted.

"Woah. Ok, that wasn't weird."

Vanessa almost laughed, but stopped herself because she knew it would only cause more pain.

"I wasn't implying that you wanted him, wanted him," Jenny reassured.

"I know," Vanessa said softly.

"Is it ok that we both like Nate? I mean, is it ok that two friends like the same guy?" Jenny asked now laying next to Vanessa, as if tying to receive a reassuring hug.

"Is it ok for one guy to like two girls?" Vanessa asked.

Jenny was silent. Vanessa slowly raised her left arm and slid it around Jenny's shoulders. It was the best her body could do. Jenny leaned into the hug and they lay silent until Vanessa fell asleep.

When she awoke the room was dark and empty. She was all alone. Vanessa wanted to call out for someone, wanted to tell them that the dark scared her, in a way it had never scared her before. She wanted to scream, but then the door opened and Dan was there.

"You're awake," Dan said as he flipped the light switch on.

"Mmmmm, yeah, finally," Vanessa replied.

"You needed it," Dan told her and she only nodded in agreement.

"I want to tell you something," Vanessa blurted out.

Dan pulled up his desk chair and sat down. He looked her dead in the eye, it made Vanessa uncomfortable, but she dared not tell him.

"I wanted to tell you…I wanted you to know…" Vanessa stammered tying to think of how to say what she needed to say. "I wanted to say…thank you. For everything you have done."

"Sure."

"I did."

"I believe that you want to thank me, but I believe there's something more," Dan said.

"You do know me," Vanessa relented silently.

"I do."

"Maybe we can talk about it later," Vanessa said.

"Sure thing," Dan replied.

He left the light on and the door open as he exited. He really did know her. Vanessa wanted to tell him her secret, wanted to tell him how she felt about Chuck, and how Chuck would hate what she had to say. She wanted to relinquish her fears, but was afraid if she did they would be the wrong fears.

Was it worse to be afraid of the dark, of the shadows? Or to be afraid of how Chuck would react when he heard her news?

What was she doing? She was making herself crazy with this. Someone had to know. Someone had to know that Bart Bass was planning something big, something that required the girl from the wrong side of the tracks to be out of the way. Someone had to know that Mr. Bass had gone a step too far.

Leaving the loft was easy. Rufus had been at the gallery, cleaning up she was sure. Dan was sleeping and Jenny was…well, wherever Jenny went when she wanted to get away. Escaping was easy; walking down the street was the hard part. Every part of Vanessa's body ached in pain, but she needed to continue, needed to make it there. She needed to hail a damn cab.

As the elevator doors opened Vanessa gave herself one last motivational push and entered the apartment. She had been there before, too many times for her liking actually, but she swore this time it was for the right reason.

"What are you doing here?" Blair asked.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Vanessa said, "but I need your help."

Chuck felt the vibration of his cell phone in his pants pockets and quickly pried it out. He was hoping it would be Vanessa, or Blair, or anyone who would let his mind stop thinking about the events of the previous day. He never imagined it would be Vanessa and Blair together. There on the Gossip Girl site was a picture of Vanessa, decked out in a thick hoodie and sunglasses entering the Waldorf apartment building. What was going on?

_It looks like new alliances are about to be made. Word on the street is poor, lonely "Vanessa" is about to get her revenge, but who is the target? Well, I hear he's rich, powerful, and not likely to go down. A war is brewing in New York, and for once the Queen B didn't start it. But will she help win it? You tell me. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	11. A Blended Mix

_What is going on in that beautiful Upper East Side apartment, you ask? What could Blair and "Vanessa" possibly have to say to one another? Well, you would be surprised how much a boy can mess with your plans, even the best laid ones. And I hear these girls do need to get….well, I think you see where I'm going with this. So just who will take home the prize. Wait and see. XOXO, Gossip Girl. _

"I'm not understanding," Blair said as she paced across the room for the tenth time that night. "I just don't get it."

"All he said was that I had to stay away from Chuck Bass," Vanessa told her, sitting on the sofa with a cup of warm tea, graciously provided to her earlier by Dorota.

"Yeah, I heard that, but it makes no sense. And looking at your face, I'd say that's not all he had done."

Vanessa looked down, embarrassed by her features.

Blair must have felt bad because she uttered, "I'm sure you can cover it up with a little concealer…or a lot of concealer."

"Gee, thanks," Vanessa said sheepishly as she drank her tea.

"All I'm saying is the face is the least of your troubles."

"You don't think I know that. Why else would I come to _you_?"

"Ok. I know we're not the best of friends here, but I can do without the tone. You are in my house, asking for my help."

Vanessa nodded. She hated when Blair was right.

"Why would you have to stay away from him?" Blair asked.

"Why do you rich people do anything you do? There's no logic, only the quest for money and fame."

"There's logic. Believe me there is logic. But I can't argue with the quest."

Blair sat down next to Vanessa, leaving ample space between them.

"Why did you come to me?" she asked.

"Because you know Chuck, and if his father is up to something then you should know. I hate to admit it, but you can help when it comes to him."

Vanessa did hate admitting it, hated relinquishing her rights over Chuck to the girl who had been there first. If anyone really understood Chuck Bass it was Blair, and if anyone understood the evil, manipulative mind of Bart Bass…well, it was Blair.

"It must be an acquisition," Blair said. "He did it to Serena, following her, making her abstain from the photogs, as if that's possible. And I seem to think he has it out for Eric's boyfriend, but that's just my humble opinion."

"What? Like a new company or something?"

"Company? Real estate? Anything high class, high price, and New York. You can bet if it's worth buying Bart Bass has his accountants working on it. And nothing quashes a deal quite like the site of junior Bass entangled in a steamy love affair with a poor, ethnic, quasi-filmmaker. Oh, and blackmailer."

"Seriously?!"

"What? It's nothing you haven't heard before," Blair said, her voice rising in pitch.

"You ego is so big, too big. I'm surprised you don't have you own floor for that thing in this damn place. I wanted your help, but I can see now that was a mistake. You don't care about anyone, including Chuck," Vanessa set her tea down and prepared to leave.

Blair caught her by the arm and turned her so they could talk face to face. Vanessa tried to hide the pain that radiated from her sprain wrist and bruised arm.

"Who are you to say I don't care about him? You don't know him like I do. You don't know…"

"I know you like to feel good, feel beautiful, feel wanted. I know that you would sacrifice almost anything, anyone, to feel that way. You don't care about Chuck, you care about how Chuck makes you feel. Warm, safe, happy. You don't want to see him hurt because that would mean you couldn't get what you need out of him."

Blair was speechless and Vanessa wondered if she had gotten to her, had hit the nail on the head. Instead Blair tightened her grip on Vanessa's arm and the pain escaped her lips.

"I'm being nice when I say get out," Blair said.

Vanessa pried her arm away. "My pleasure."

She stormed to the elevator, gracefulness left behind, and pressed the button to go down. It seemed like an eternity, the doors just would not open. Blair stood, watching her, like a bouncer escorting a rowdy patron out of a downtown bar.

Just as the doors opened, Vanessa heard Blair say, "At least he has a father."

Vanessa pulled herself reluctantly out of the elevator and turned to face Blair. "What?"

"I'm just saying, no offense to what happened to you, but at least Chuck has a father."

"You have a father."

"And so do you, but where are they?"

"Vermont."

"God knows where," Blair said smiling.

"Even if he was trying to protect Chuck out of some sick sense of love, it doesn't excuse what happened to me," Vanessa told her.

"Of course not. I hate you, I mean that's clear, but I never wanted to physically hurt you." Blair laughed. "Ok, maybe just a little bit."

Vanessa nodded, understanding the urge.

"You don't even know if it was Bart who set this whole thing up."

"The guy looked like a business man, a tailored suit and all. He didn't rob me or rape me. He wanted to send a message. A message to stay away from Chuck. Who else would want that? Who else would hurt me to protect Chuck?"

"Even if it was him, maybe things just went too far, maybe he never…."

"Blair stop. Stop defending him," Vanessa held her hands to her face forcing herself not to cry. She would not cry in front of Blair. Holding her head up, eyes misty, but without tears, she said again, "Just stop."

Blair nodded.

Vanessa prepared to leave once again, but couldn't stop herself from saying it. "Thank you Blair."

"You don't' have to…"

"I know."

"Listen, Vanessa. If you want, I have the name of a guy. A really good guy my mom used to spy on my dad when he was, well…anyway this guy isn't cheap, but let me make a call or two and maybe I can have him looking into this whole thing."

Vanessa didn't ask her why she wanted to help. She figured it was best to leave things as they were, to accept the help, to stay humble, and sane.

"Ok."

"Good. I'll call you when it's all set up."

"Ya, that would be good."

Vanessa entered the elevator and headed to the lobby. Before the doors opened once more, she fished her oversized sunglasses from the pocket of her hoodie and carefully slipped them on. She just knew there would be camera phones about, knew she couldn't hide.

Her feelings for Chuck had allowed her to enter into a whole different world. One of luxury yes, but also of ego and despair and dishonesty. Being in Chuck's world she had run the gambit of emotions, gone from herself to an imitation of Blair, from kind and loving to malicious and scheming. She had once been outspoken and now, well she wasn't sure what she was now.

Sometimes she wished she could go back to her old life, but then she would be without her new bond to Dan, without having met and fallen for Nate, without having felt alive with Chuck.

Vanessa did not want to return to the Humphrey loft, but didn't know where else to go. She needed to feel safe, warm, happy. She accused Blair of seeking those feelings in Chuck, but the truth was that was how Chuck made her feel. He also enraged her at times, but she could forgive all the bravado with one smile. How pathetic Vanessa thought as she walked on, how sad.

She found herself standing in Brooklyn outside the bar that Chuck had helped her save. She smiled, not caring about the pain. This was a good memory, perhaps one of her best. The struggle, the fight had been worth it, because in the end they had won.

What would fighting Bart Bass accomplish? She wanted to be a strong woman, a feminist for the younger set. She wanted to stand up and say it was wrong, but she was running out of fight. Without someone there to hold her up she was sure she would fall.

Sitting on a stool at that bar all alone, Chuck looked like a lost puppy. The image suited him, made him human. Vanessa took her luck in stride and decided it was now or never.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said, taking off her glasses and pulling up a stool beside him.

Chuck was amazed to see her sitting there. He knew she was looking better, he had seen that picture on the web, but here she was out of the hospital. Still bruised, but more like the Vanessa he had come to….

"They won't serve you huh?" Vanessa asked.

"No. I guess my name, and the fact that I saved this place, doesn't carry that much wait in this part of town."

"Or it could be that you're underage," Vanessa quipped.

"That? No that never stops me," he said. He didn't turn to face her; he could see her just fine in the mirror that hung over the bar. He knew she was smiling, was happy maybe. He knew he had a tremendous affect of her.

"So yesterday.." he began, but Vanessa cut him off.

"Was weird."

"Ya. Are you okay?" he asked.

Vanessa could tell the sincerity in his voice was real.

"No. I mean…no."

It was the first time she had said she was not ok, she was not fine.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

Vanessa laughed. She hadn't meant to, but knowing what she knew and feeling how she felt…the emotions were overwhelming. She laughed out of fear and nervousness. She laughed because there was nothing left to say.

"Need a hug, a drink, a valium?"

"No."

Chuck nodded.

"Well, maybe a drink," she said shyly.

"I can do that." When the bartender walked from the counter to the back room Chuck quickly reached over the bar and grabbed the first bottle of scotch he saw. Then he quickly tucked it under his coat and ushered Vanessa out of the bar. He watched her fumble with her glasses, as if the outside air would mock her wounds if they were seen.

"What are you doing?" she asked as they stepped outside.

"Have you ever been in a limo?"

"Wow. That was a bad pick up line, even for you."

Chuck's limo turned the corner and pulled up before them. Vanessa wondered if the driver had just been circling the block waiting for his client's exit. Chuck held the door open for her and she climbed inside.

"Where would you like to go?" Chuck asked her.

"Nowhere in particular," Vanessa responded.

"You heard the lady," Chuck said to the driver before pressing the overhead button to bring up the glass giving them a little more privacy. Vanessa took off her sunglasses once again.

They were both sitting toward the back of the limo, side by side, and Vanessa took advantage, putting her feet up on the seat to her left, giving her sore legs some rest.

"Do they hurt?" Chuck asked.

"Everything hurts," she responded.

"Well, it's blended," Chuck said suddenly, referring to the scotch, "but we can make do."

"I'm surprised you didn't already have some scotch lying around in here," she said, pressing herself into the seat and getting comfortable.

He did have scotch, but he drank it all.

"The raccoon look suits you, gives you depth," he said, not really knowing why he had to always insult her after internally realizing her liked her.

Not missing a beat she responded, "The beaten down puppy look suits you, gives you a soul."

"Thank you. And here I was thinking we had lost our spark."

"What would make you think that?" she said, grabbing the glass of scotch and taking a sip.

"Well, I guess the whole faking a robbery to cancel our date thing," he said.

"Fuck you," she let out. "You know it just happened. Like two days ago. Maybe in a few months we can joke about it but right now…."

"I know I know, I'm sorry," he let out.

"Besides, I don't have to fake a robbery to get you out of my life, I just have to kiss Nate Archibald."

"Oh you minx you," he said, raising his glass to her wit and charm. "You had me there."

"Well, it is new. It did just happen, but if anyone gets to joke about it, I guess it's you."

"Why me?"

Vanessa wasn't sure how to answer. Was she giving him a free pass because of what she thought was happening between him and her and Bart Bass? Or did she want to keep him on his good side so as not to lose him to Bart…or god forbid, Blair? Why did she always let Chuck off the hook?

"Abrams? You still with me?"

"Calling me by my last name. I like that."

"I know you do," he said matter-of-factly.

"Don't pretend you don't like to be called Bass."

"I prefer Mr. Bass if you don't mind."

"Well, Mr. Bass, can you top me off?"

For a moment Chuck thought her words were some sexual innuendo, until he saw her empty glass.

"Wow, you really did need a drink."

"I needed some courage."

"For what?"

Vanessa let the glass roll from her fingers and into his own hand, then pushed her body sideways towards him, her head titled to his. She let her legs fall from the seat and used them as leverage to push off the floor so her chest, her breasts, were rubbing against his chest. Their eyes were locked, breath on breath, lips so close Chuck could nearly taste her lip gloss.

"Vanessa wait," he said as he gently pushed her shoulders back, her empty glass still in his hand.

Vanessa ignored him and moved in again, trying some stealth maneuver to steal his tender lips.

"Wait."

Vanessa pulled away. "What is wrong with us? This isn't the first time. We could have kissed at the bar, that first night, but I didn't trust you."

"Or after the party…"

"…but Blair had to ruin that."

"And the time in your loft, until you threw up," Chuck smirked.

"Don't remind me. Damnit Chuck, why can't we do this? Its just a kiss right? Just a kiss between two people who really, really like each other."

"It is, but we can't do it when you're like this," he let his hand flashing before her face as if critiquing her current physical state.

"What? I'm not pretty enough for you? Sorry me getting jumped ruined your make out plans," Vanessa said sternly.

"That's not what I meant. And moreover, I think you know that's not what I meant. I think you do this on purpose."

"Do what?"

"Work me up. You like it when we fight, argue, banter. You need it."

"Don't you?" she asked.

"Yes. But sometimes I just want to tell you that I can't kiss you, not because of how you look, but because of what it would mean, with you feeling the way you do."

"Afraid of being someone's pawn," she said smiling.

"No. I'm afraid of you being my pawn," he said.

Then it hit her like bolt of lightning. He was at her bar, alone. He had his limo waiting. He had two glasses chilled and that look in his eye. Chuck Bass was playing on her emotions, on her vulnerability. He was using what had happened to her to…to get what her wanted. But his conscience, or that newly acquired soul must have stopped him, forced him to confess.

"I am so stupid," she said.

Chuck did not respond. He filled her glass and passed her that second drink. Vanessa took it without protest and filled her mouth with warm liquid.

"I am so…so…" she didn't know what she was, but she was no one's pawn. "It was your father."

Vanessa turned to look Chuck in the eye, serious, honest, resolute.

"What?" Chuck asked, no longer sure what they were talking about.

"It was your father who did this. You father who set this all in motion."

Suddenly, Chuck knew what she meant.

"It wasn't a robbery, it was a man with a message. He wanted me to stay away from you and when I refused, when I tried to get away, tried to scream…well, things went bad and we struggled, we fought. Maybe I made it worse, I don't know," she couldn't believe she was admitting her guilt to Chuck. "What I do know is that there is only one man I can think of who would go to those lengths to protect the Bass image."

Chuck shook his head no. He knew his father was capable of many things, many disturbing, sad, hurtful things. But this? How could his father condone the violent attack of a woman, a girl, just because she was with him. It could not be true.

"My father is many things, but he is not a violent man. In fact, he's anti-violence. He doesn't like to get his hands dirty."

"Well he didn't. Someone else got dirty for him."

Chuck wanted to kick her out of the limo in order to make the thought go away, but even he knew that would be taking it too far. Instead he slid back into his seat and sipped his scotch as Vanessa did the same.

That sat in silence as the limo drove on.

Vanessa wondered if Chuck was worth all the trouble.

Chuck wondered if Blair would have caused this much trouble.

Vanessa turned to Chuck and wondered what his lips would taste like.

Chuck looked to Vanessa and wondered what her tongue would feel like.

_There's been movement in Queen B's camp. Apparently she has her hands full, what with her new family, her not-so-secret longing for Chuck, and now her interest in helping What's Her Name (yes, the novelty of first names has worn off). But don't fear, something tells me the queen isn't as selfless as she makes herself out to be. I mean, what fun would that be? XOXO, Gossip Girl. _


	12. A Shot

_I hear the Queen B. has a plan, but what ever could her end game be? Well, I figure it has something to do with a certain Junior Bass, but first she'll have to get rid of What's Her Name. It's ghastly business, but someone has to put that girl in her place. Or is that just too mean? XOXO, Gossip Girl. _

"I'm here," Vanessa called as she got off the elevator and stepped once again into Blair Waldorf's apartment. She felt like a fly in a spider's trap. "What was so important you couldn't just tell me over the…"

Vanessa cut her sentence short when she saw Blair descend the stairs. Vanessa liked men, loved men, but he couldn't help but stare at Blair. The black satin dress, the thin, strapy stilettos, the signature flower headband in her hair. Why did she look so good?

"Sorry if I kept you waiting," Blair said as she approached. "It takes time to look this good."

"I'll bet," Vanessa returned, instantly thinking about her own looks, about her bruised face. "So what did you want?"

"I wanted to let you know that my guy got some dirt on Bart Bass for you. It's all here in this file," Blair said as she reached for a large manila envelope sitting on the side table.

"Wow, that was fast."

"I told you he was good." Blair handed the envelope to Vanessa, but just as Vanessa was about to pull it back Blair changed her mind. "Wait," she said, as she held on the envelope tight.

"What?" Vanessa asked.

"I was just wondering where you were a couple nights ago," Blair responded. "I mean, what company are you keeping these days?"

Vanessa knew exactly what she was referring to. "Chuck's company," she said honestly, there was no need for denials when their pictures were all over the web.

"I give you credit for not lying to me, but not that much credit. You had me here looking up dirt for you, while you did…I don't even want to know what you did, in the back of his limo."

"Nothing happened Blair. Not that I owe you an explanation, but nothing happened. You knew I liked him, it's literally written on my face now. Why would you agree to help if that bothered you?" Vanessa asked.

"So I could do this," Blair walked from the hall and into the sitting room. Vanessa reluctantly followed. There against the far wall was a grand fireplace, already roaring, the room was hot, humid, as if the fire had been raging all day. Blair turned back to Vanessa, as she knew what was about to happen.

With one flick of her delicate wrist Blair let the envelope go and it found its way to the center of the fire.

"Oops."

Vanessa didn't say a word, she simply turned around and began to storm out.

"Does this mean we won't be friends?" Blair sarcastically called after her.

Vanessa whirled around and barreled toward Blair, Blair looked astonished. "You bitch," she called as they landed face to face. "This was all to see the look on my face? Well, I don't care. I don't need your help."

"The sad part is, you do," Blair said.

Vanessa left, still enraged, but desperately trying to calm down, trying to formulate a plan. Chuck had not spoken to her for two days, since he dropped her off at the Humphrey loft. He had not believed her, had not understood how difficult it was for her to have said what she said. They were now facing a great divide and Vanessa needed to prove to Chuck, needed to show him that she was right. Too bad Blair knew that too.

Vanessa quickly exited the apartment and then searched the streets of the Upper East Side for a secluded payphone. The arms of her sunglasses dug into the bruised sides of her face as she jogged through the streets of the rich. Did no one use public phones anymore?

Finally, there it was, a public phone booth, unmanned and all alone. Vanessa dashed across the street to make it there, dodging cars and taxis as she went. Once inside Vanessa grabbed for the phone book and searched under private investigators. She was hoping his name would be there, but the trouble was she didn't know his name at all.

Vanessa used the pay phone, so her name and number would not appear on any call display, and then one by one she called all the investigators. In New York City it was a lengthy list. Each time the phone was answered she pretended to be Blair Waldorf, asking for a second copy of the information she had just received. Each time she claimed it had gotten stolen or been left in a cab. Each time the secretary sounded surprised, saying they had no client named Blair Waldorf. Each time Vanessa hung up completely dejected.

Then her seventh call. Then the ploy worked. The secretary at Fifth Avenue Associates patched her through to Mr. Assante, a shady sounding, gruff individual who wouldn't have recognized Blair's voice from the voice of his own mother. It was all so easy. Mr. Assante told her he would leave the info at the front desk, all she had to do was show ID for it. Vanessa told him it was fine, but where would she get ID?

It was time Vanessa knew. It was time to get a partner.

"No, no, no, no," Dan said as Vanessa laid out the plan.

"Dan please, I need your help here," Vanessa pleaded.

"Why? Why do you need this information anyway?" he asked.

"I can't explain that right now…" she began.

"Well, then I can't help you right now."

Vanessa swallowed her pride and indecision, along with a large shot of scotch. Dan gave her a disapproving look, but she needed more courage. She wondered if there were better ways to get it.

She revealed her lies, her fears, her relationship with Chuck. She saw Dan's expression grow from anger, to sadness, to relief. But in the end he seemed to understand, he could relate to how intoxicating that world was, and how caught up people like them tended to get.

"Ok, but I still don't understand why we need to do this. I'm all for helping but stealing is a bit much."

"Really? After your bender with Chuck and a stint in jail, this is too much?"

"Those were extenuating circumstances."

"So are these," she replied stoutly.

"The only reason you would need this is if you were going to the police right?"

The police. How ridiculous she was? The police had never even entered her mind. She wanted the information so she could go to Chuck, show Chuck who she was, who his father was. She needed the information to protect herself against being left behind, yet again. The police had nothing to do with it.

"Yes," Vanessa lied. "I want to go to the police, but I need the proof. Bart is a powerful man. This may be the only way."

Dan nodded. He knew just how powerful Bart was, and just how many secrets he kept.

"Ok. I'll do it," he began. "But only if you promise that we bail the first sign of trouble. I don't need a record."

"I promise."

Dan Humphrey entered Fifth Avenue Associates confident and secure, but both he and Vanessa knew it was all an act. Standing at the secretary's front desk he scanned the counter top for the envelope they wanted and spotted it under a pile of other strewn files. He gave a backwards thumbs up sign to Vanessa, who was waiting, spying, from outside the glass doors. Step one was complete.

Step two had Dan acting like a fool. He broke down in front of the strange woman. Saying he thought his father was cheating on his mom. He told her how all the lies were tearing their family apart and that he needed an appointment with Mr. Assante right away. Using the investigator's name seemed to get the secretary's attention, but Dan assured her had heard the name floating through the halls of the rich Upper East Side women who had been burned by men in the past. The secretary seemed to understand, perhaps she too had been burned.

Protocol said clients would wait in the lobby to be met by Mr. Assante, but Dan insisted he see him now. He needed the secretary to show him in asap. When the secretary refused Dan asked if she would at least show him to the men's restroom so he could dry his eyes. Taking pity on the sad sight before her, she did.

Once they had both rounded the corner step three began with Vanessa opening the glass doors and entering the lobby. She ran to the front desk and reached over the counter before her to rifle through all the papers on the poor secretary's desk. When she saw the envelope baring Blair's name she snatched it up, but as she did the other files that had been on top flew to the floor. There was no time to clean it up. Vanessa bolted for the door. Hot on her heels was Dan, who had told the secretary he had changed his mind and just needed some air. Together they ran from the building, both sure they could hear the secretary calling after them. They ran down the street, block after block, until they were sure they had gotten away.

Out of breath, they found themselves at a coffee shop in Chuck's neighborhood, grossly overpaying for a couple of frozen lattes. When they sat down Vanessa immediately began to open the envelope.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Dan asked.

Vanessa suddenly remembered her lie.

"I'm not going to the police Dan, at least not yet," she said sadly.

"I kinda figured that out already," he smiled. "But if this is all for Chuck, don't you think you should just give him the info. I mean, there could be other things in there. Things he wouldn't want you to see."

Vanessa thought Dan was probably right, but her curiosity was so strong. What if she gave Chuck her sacred proof, and it turned out not to say anything at all about her attack? What if it had all been for nothing?

"But what if…" Vanessa began.

"It's a risk you have to take," Dan said as he grabbed her hand and squeezed. She let her fingers fall from the envelope and entangle in his. They sat together, drinking coffee and holding hands.

There were times Vanessa had wished they would be the ones, the ones to laugh and talk and kiss. There were times she wondered if Dan and her were meant to be, but Vanessa knew her life was long. There would be time to figure that out later.

Standing outside Chuck's apartment building Vanessa was still holding Dan's hand. She needed the support, the strength she drew from him in times of doubt.

"You can do this," he said softly to her.

"I know, I mean this was the plan all along. It's just…" she stopped.

"Difficult," Dan finished. "Difficult to not feel in control."

Vanessa nodded in agreement. Together they walked toward the front of the building, but were coldly intercepted by Blair.

"Nice moves V. but you'll have to do better than that to pull one over on me," she began as she put her body between them and the door.

"Blair get out of our way," Dan said gently. He was not looking forward to a confrontation with a Waldorf.

"Did you think they wouldn't call me? Wondering if I had peeled in there and stolen my own files. Of course they did, and of course I knew who was behind it. Clever, I'll give you that, but I paid for that information and I want it back."

"How much Blair?" Vanessa asked. "How much do you want for it?"

"Too much. More than you could afford," Blair said.

"Look she's not paying for it and she's not handing it over," Dan said. "Chuck deserves to see what's in that file."

"And what makes you think he doesn't already know what's in it?" Blair asked.

Dan and Vanessa looked confused.

"Chuck has his own investigators. And he knows his father. What makes you think he doesn't already know what happened to her and just doesn't care," Blair said snidely.

"That's not true," Vanessa asserted.

"Why not? Are you so sure you two belong together? Because if you are, then where is he in your time of need?"

As if on cue, Chuck's limo pulled to the curb before the apartment and he made his dashing exit. He seemed caught off guard by the hoard waiting for him before the door. He wasn't expecting visitors, at least not two beautiful ladies….and Humphrey.

"Chuck," Vanessa began, but Blair cut her off by nearly running to Chuck's side.

Vanessa worried this was it, this moment was going to end it all. Whatever Blair said to Chuck was out of ear range, and while Dan tried to pull her closer to the action Vanessa refused to budge. Chuck would just have to chose, chose who he believed, chose a side.

Chuck strode past Dan, Blair still following, and stopped before Vanessa.

"Can I have it, please?" he asked her kindly, but still cold. Vanessa passed him the envelope. He took it and then went inside.

"What was that?" Dan asked.

"He knows," Blair said.

"What?" Vanessa offered.

"He knows what happened to you and he knows who did it," Blair said soundly. "I guess he knew all along."

_Please do check out my photos from the confrontation at the Bass apartment. There's nothing better than watching a showdown between "friends" over a glass of champagne. Can't afford champagne? Well I guess the cheap stuff will work just fine for our purposes, but not for Chuck's. Hopefully, he can come to terms with his problems with What's Her Name…if not, I think we all know who's waiting in the wings. XOXO, Gossip Girl_


	13. A Paper Bag

_I hear that Chuck is hold up in his luxurious apartment, perhaps repenting for the past mistakes he has made. Or perhaps he's having his way with a certain constant houseguest. But where oh where is his craved conquest from the past? My spies tell me she's back in Brooklyn and if Chuck Bass makes one more trip down there we may just have to revoke his status card. The Upper East Side can't afford to lose another prince. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Chuck rolled Blair's soft, brown tendrils around his fingers as he let his hands wander through her hair. She moaned quietly with pleasure as Chuck brought his hot breath to her neck. He could feel the goose bumps grow on her body, the shivers move up and down her spine. He reveled in the fact that she was writhing beneath him; reveled in the fact that he could make her body move even while they were still wearing all their clothes. There was a certain power he could elicit when pressing his body down on her. But he did not fell whole, even as his lips traveled down her collarbone to her shoulder and then across her chest. Blair knew something was wrong, but said nothing, did nothing, but move her body closer and try to retain the warmth.

They had left Vanessa and Dan downstairs in front of the building. Left them wondering what had happened, wondering who the bad guy really was?

Chuck no longer knew the answer to that question.

As he searched for the reasons behind his fear he pulled away from Blair, physically and mentally. Chuck knew this was not what Blair wanted, but he also knew she did not deserve to be used. As much as he wanted Vanessa, as hard as he fought to quell that desire, his first love would always be Blair Waldorf and Chuck had to admit that she was the last person he'd ever want to hurt.

Blair laid herself across his chest, her hair strewn just under his chin, the smell of lavender wafting to his nose. He placed one arm around her back, stroking the bare skin of her shoulder with small soft circles, his other arm propped behind his own head. He was thinking, staring to the ceiling and thinking of what he had done.

For once he was pleased that Blair was silent. Usually he loved to hear her voice, to banter with her, match wits, flirt. But now was a time for stillness, for calm, and Blair instinctively understood. She almost always understood him that well.

Together they breathed in and out. Their chests rising and falling in unison, their silent air filling the room, their bodies locked in still emotion. Each time Blair made a move, perhaps to make herself more comfortable, Chuck moved too. He quietly accommodated her every unspoken wish. Well, not every wish.

They both knew what the other wanted; they were so damn close. But it would be wrong, Chuck knew. It would be wrong to give in to that desire with the knowledge that Vanessa was downstairs, sad and alone and confused. Even Blair Waldorf could appreciate that.

Vanessa was sad and confused, but she certainly was not alone. Walking back to the Humphrey loft she found herself wrapped in Dan's warm embrace. He silently took her under his strong, soft wing and brought her to the place she most needed to go. He brought her home.

It was strange to know that this place was now her place. That Dan's family was not a substitute for her own, but her actual family. Sometimes Vanessa looked to Dan and wondered why they were not their own version, a Brooklyn version, of Chuck and Blair. But then she would think of the blond haired beauty that still held Dan's heart and she would sigh in realized grief.

Curled on the Humphrey couch, Dan tucked behind her, Vanessa's hair just beneath his nose, the scent of lavender filling the air.

They held one another in silence, understanding without words, as they so often did, that there was nothing left to be said.

Could Chuck have really known all along? Could he have condoned such violence and mistreatment? Could he have instigated the entire attack?

Was Chuck Bass the man she had always thought him to be?

Vanessa knew Dan thought so, knew Dan was ready to fight for her, even if she questioned whether or not he would win. Just the fact that he would still champion for her honor made Vanessa smile, a silent tear running down her cheek.

Dan caught the tear on a lone finger and wiped it away.

Unfortunately for Vanessa, the blond was back. In the midst of her personal crisis, a crisis of conscience and confidence, Dan was summoned away by Serena. Vanessa couldn't blame him for still being drawn to the love of his life. Vanessa was wrapped in knitted blankets in Jenny's bed kicking herself for letting Chuck in, and they hadn't even kissed. But she was still thinking of him. How could she not?

For the days that Dan spent away Vanessa kept herself busy. The gallery, school work, some calls to her mother and sister, and a few smiles and laughs shared with Jenny.

Vanessa and Jenny had come to terms with their own inner battles, their own inner desires, and forgiven one another for letting those internal struggles conflict with their external friendship. Both had said Nate Archibald was nothing to compete about. Both had lied.

The truth was, Vanessa did not want Nate, she simply did not want Jenny to have him. It was a despicable feeling, one that made Vanessa liken herself to Blair. Lying in Jenny's bed, however, she knew it was time to stop. She needed to feel happiness for her friend. She needed to let go of Nate and of Dan and of childish schoolgirl crushes. She needed to tell herself and the world that Chuck Bass was the man for her.

First, she would have to confront him about his lies. Second, she would do to him what his father had done to her.

Finding herself once again outside the Bass apartment building Vanessa spotted Blair leaving from the grand glass doors. She almost turned to run away, but with her face newly free of wounds and her heart swelling and in need of release Vanessa swallowed her fear and walked forward.

Blair however was not prepared for a fight. She did not make a pithy comment or scowl to her competition. She didn't roll her eyes or judge Vanessa silently with a down turned smile. Instead she stood before Vanessa, her eyes, her face, showing nothing but compassion and understanding.

Vanessa wondered if they had met another way, in another place, without class and without boys, could she and Blair be friends?

"Hi," Blair said sheepishly. She wore the stance awkwardly. Vanessa knew something was wrong.

"What happened?" Vanessa asked.

She couldn't believe herself. She was there to kick some sense into Chuck. Perhaps she was there to kick his ass. She wanted to scream at him, to hit and slap and kick. To tell him that if it was true, if he had known of her attack before it happened, known how to stop it or how to comfort her…if he had know anything at all she was there to tell him what she thought.

Now, standing outside his building, she was wondering what exactly it was that she thought of him?

The question Vanessa had asked Blair was almost lost, as they stood silent face to face for moments that melted into long, arduous minutes.

"Blair, what happened?" Vanessa asked again.

"Bart Bass died," she said.

Chuck was not home; he had fled the inquisition from his family and friends, the constant questions, the condolences that felt fake and forced. He was not there to meet Blair and her look of sorrow and he was not there to witness her face to face with Vanessa.

Instead he was waiting. Waiting to be found. Waiting to be comforted the real way, the right way.

Sitting on the steps, a bottle of scotch tucked neatly inside a paper bag, taking swift swigs with abandon, Chuck did not feel like an Upper East Sider. He did not feel like a Bass.

He felt…really felt and it scared him.

"I was hoping you were here."

Chuck looked up when he heard the voice. Vanessa looked back.

Blair, still feeling Chuck's warmth on her body after the last few days with him, settled herself into bed and flipped open her laptop. She knew they couldn't be together. Not now at least, but she still cherished her place at his side. Suddenly he wasn't home. Bart's death had of course touched him deeply, but she wanted to help him, care for him, love him.

Where could he be?

There on the Gossip Girl website was a picture of Chuck sitting outside the Humphrey loft, Vanessa standing over him. The caption read: "_A Prince Grieving_."

Blair wondered if with Bart gone Chuck would now be the king. And if so, could she be his queen? The thought made her fell sick; she should be grieving too, grieving on behalf of her friend. Or maybe she was feeling sick because Vanessa was suddenly back in the picture. She may even still have a starring role.

Blair pulled herself from the laptop and fled to the shower to wash away all her feelings.

She failed to see the newest picture upload.

There in the cold Brooklyn night, under the stars, Chuck Bass was shedding a silent tear, in the arms of girl, his lips pressed firmly against hers.


	14. A Cold Swig

_Winter is here. While the snow may cover the streets of New York with all its white beauty, there are some things that cannot be covered up; no matter how hard you try. Bass Junior is finding that out the hard way, and in the midst of his grief it's probably a tough lesson to swallow. But fear not little ones, Chuck still has a few aces up his sleeve, and still has a girl by his side. But is it the right one? XOXO, Gossip Girl. _

Chuck's hands found Vanessa's back, pressing her form into his own and holding tight. His hips resting against her own, her chest flattened by the intensity of their union. Vanessa's arms wrapped around his neck, her hands alternately rubbing his skin and running through his hair, as snow fell around them making their lip lock a source of heat.

That heat made Vanessa sweat, beads of perspiration forming at her hairline despite the near freezing temperatures. Chuck, however, did not mind the cold. It was a beautiful excuse not to let go, not give her an inch of space, not to relinquish her lips.

And he didn't.

Since he had taken her into his arms, just moments before, and pressed his lips to her own, tasting the cherry lip balm, he had not come up for air. Perhaps he was afraid to pry himself from her mouth, afraid to taste anything but her. Perhaps he thought if he let her go he wouldn't get another chance.

For a moment or two, moments that felt longer than any she had experienced before, Vanessa let Chuck roam her mouth freely. She opened herself to him, her hands finding their way to his silky hair, her breasts achingly rubbing against her blouse just dying to feel skin on skin contact, her lips quivering with delight. They were locked in an instant, locked and briefly unable to set themselves free.

But Vanessa couldn't stop herself from thinking. While the feeling was amazing and her heart was pounding with joy, fear washed over her once again and Vanessa prepared to pull away. She wasn't sure why they were kissing; if it was the culmination of weeks of passion and tension, or if it was the result of desperation and despair. Vanessa let her hands slip from his neck and placed them on his shoulders flat, ready to push him away, ready to stop the dreaming.

Then Vanessa tasted his tears, mingling within their kiss, and she knew she would not have to be the one to pull away.

Their union transitioned from unadulterated passion to true tenderness as Chuck found himself wrapping his arms around Vanessa in a hug and letting his face bury itself between her shoulder and neck. In response she held him tight and stayed silent; silence was what he needed.

Eventually they found there way to the concrete steps outside the Humphrey loft and sat down next to Chuck's now cold bottle of scotch. Vanessa took it from his side and let her lips form around the opening; then she suddenly pulled away. She did not want the alcohol to diminish the taste, the feel, Chuck had left on her lips. Chuck didn't seem to have the same thought, as he grabbed the bottle back and took a cold swig.

Vanessa did not know what to say.

Chuck did not know what to do.

They sat, pressed against one another, now acutely aware of the cold. Their hands were tangled together, but neither knew if it was because they wanted to touch or because they needed to touch.

"Do you want to come up?" Vanessa finally asked, but Chuck simply shook his head 'no'.

He then leaned in and attempted to kiss her again, but Vanessa pulled back.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"I hate that question," he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his own words, his own thoughts. "I've always hated that question."

Vanessa pulled her hands away from his, leaving Chuck clutching only the bottle.

"It's alright. I probably shouldn't have come here," he said.

"What?" Vanessa asked. "No. Chuck I wanted to see you. I wanted to see if you were ok. I needed to see you."

Chuck felt a jolt run through him when she said the word "needed", but he wasn't sure what kind of jolt it was.

"Do you want to talk about…." She began, but Chuck shook his head 'no' once more.

"I don't think I'll ever want to talk about it."

The moment grew awkward and Vanessa began to wonder if she was the one who was meant to comfort him. Where had her resolve gone?

"I can't apologize," Chuck finally said. "Not again."

Vanessa was confused.

"I feel as if that's all we do; ask questions and then apologize for the answers. And I can't, won't, do it anymore."

"I won't either," she responded.

"My father is a difficult man to know, but he is…he is…" Chuck fell silent and took another swig of scotch. "My father was a difficult man, but he was my father and I won't bury him twice. His reputation is all he has left."

"I want the envelope back," Vanessa said astutely.

Without a second thought Chuck pulled it from his inside his coat, the envelope had already been torn open.

Vanessa looked at the envelope for a moment, wondering what to do. She so badly wanted to tear the opening bigger and spill out its contents. She wanted to know who, how, and why. Then she looked to her right and caught another image of a broken Chuck Bass and she felt bad, felt sorry, felt pity. It was the last thing Chuck wanted her to feel for him, but Vanessa could not help it. There was only one thing she could do.

Vanessa stood up, envelope in hand and began to walk down the sidewalk toward the park next to the Humphrey loft. Chuck followed her with his eyes, curious to see where she was going and why she was going.

Perhaps he should have poured his heart out to her. Perhaps he should have told her what really happened; that his father had indeed tried to scare her away, but that violence was never part of the plan. Maybe she would understand that there were men out there who wanted nothing more than to slander Bart Bass, men who used his confidants against him, men who were willing to hurt a beautiful teenage girl if it meant seeing the Bass family suffer. But then he thought, she wouldn't truly believe that, because he wasn't sure he truly believed that. He had confronted his father and that was the story that had been told, but who really knew the truth when it came to Bart Bass? In death, Chuck thought it best to trust him.

The envelope, however, contained none of that information. It didn't even mention Vanessa's attack, an occurrence that Bart swore had spiraled out of his control. Instead the envelope was filled with secrets, dirty, disparaging secrets that could tear his family apart. It spoke of his father and the business, his mother and her death, Lily and her marriage, Chuck and his conquests, Serena and Eric, and anyone else who had touched the lives of the Bass family. Bu there was not one single mention of Vanessa Abrams. Chuck was not sure if that would please or upset her.

Vanessa jotted across the pathway and to the edge of the park stopping in front of a large garbage can. She took the envelope in two hands and began to tear it apart. The contents were thick, but only paper, and after some strong maneuvering she managed to tear it into two large sections before pushing it down beneath some other garbage, hidden from roving eyes. She then quickly strode back.

Upon her arrival Chuck was almost smiling, the best he could do under the circumstances, but still it made Vanessa feel proud. Whatever had happened it had nothing to do with Chuck and she was sure of that.

Chuck felt relief. Relief that he would not have to reveal his role in her attack, but more so that she would not see what the Bass family was truly like. There were some things that people just should not know.

Vanessa placed her arms under his and began lifting him to his feet. She led him sloppily into the apartment building, refusing to take no for an answer. Once inside both Rufus and Dan looked up to see what the commotion was, as a partly drunk Chuck crashed into their door and kitchen counter. Rufus quickly got to his feet and helped the poor guy into Dan's bed.

"Is this a good idea?" Dan asked Vanessa, already aware of the death of Bart Bass.

"Probably not, but what would you do?"

Dan nodded in response. He may not like Chuck, but he certainly did not want him to suffer.

Vanessa and Dan followed into Dan's room. There Dan grabbed a few of his belongings in order to set himself up on the couch for the night. As he was leaving Vanessa silent mouthed the words: "Thank you."

She took off her coat and crawled into bed beside Chuck, tucking them both firmly underneath the blankets. They found one another in the dark and held tight.

A few hours later Chuck found Vanessa sleeping, wrapped around one of Dan's pillows, blissfully warm and content. Chuck watched her for a moment, brushing her curls from her face and stroking her smooth cheek. She stirred beneath him and it made Chuck blush. Even in sleep he had an affect on women. Slowly, quietly, he slipped out of bed, careful not to move her form. He quickly put his shoes back on and fumbled in the dark for his coat before slipping out of the room and into the living area.

Dan was awake, lying on the couch reading a book. Chuck could not escape him.

Dan looked up. "Hey," he said in a whisper.

Chuck only nodded.

"Can I get you anything?" Dan prepared to get up.

Chuck put his hand out to stop him. "No, no. You stay. I'm gonna go," Chuck said quietly. "I think I just need to be at home right now."

Dan understood. "Should I tell Vanessa you left?"

"Don't wake her. Tomorrow just tell her…tell her…" Chuck did not know what to say.

"Thanks?" Dan asked.

"Sure," Chuck responded before heading out the door.

Once outside, again in the cold and under the falling snow, Chuck bundled his coat around him tight and made his way to the park. He knew his limo was still around the corner, as it had been there for hours, silently waiting for him, but he had something to take care of first. Crossing the pathway and standing before the garbage can from earlier that night, Chuck rummaged through the top pile of waste looking for the torn envelope. While Vanessa's gesture had been one of great joy for him, he could not let that envelope out of his sight. He had only truly given it back thinking, hoping, she wouldn't take it. Chuck felt sick at the thought that he didn't trust Vanessa, at least not with this.

Pulling back snowy, near frozen garbage Chuck was astonished not to find the envelope. He dug deeper and deeper and deeper letting garbage pile on the ground around him, but still there was nothing. He whipped around in place, scanning the park for another wastebasket, maybe he was mistaken of the location of the right one, but there was nothing. No other garbage cans and no culprits in sight. In frustration, Chuck walked the block to his waiting limo, wondering who had their hands on his family secrets.

Dan silently peered into his bedroom to make sure Vanessa was alright. She was still there, soundly sleeping, curled against a pillow and tucked warm beneath the blankets. Dan smiled with the knowledge that perhaps Chuck was not so bad for her after all. As he was preparing to leave he accidentally bumped the dresser and forced Vanessa's bag to come tumbling down. He quickly looked up, thinking the noise had woken his friend, but she only turned slightly in her sleep and made small murmur noises.

Dan laughed to himself, he was becoming such a clutch. He quietly picked up her belongings, a makeup compact, her wallet, and two halves of a large envelope and stuffed them back into her bag without a second thought.

_I hear Chuck stayed over at a certain someone's house last night, but why oh why would he do a thing like that? Perhaps What's Her Name is a better girl than we previously thought. Or perhaps just a better kisser. Hey, don't judge. We all grieve in our own way. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	15. A Hot Swig

**Warning**: This chapter alludes to the acts that took place during Bart Bass' funeral episode. If you have not seen the episode you can still read the story, but you may be confused a bit.

_Every girl loves an excuse to wear a little black dress, but does it still count when the occasion is a funeral? Upper East Side's best are decked out in their finest to mourn the loss of one Bart Bass. But how is Chuck handling the news. According to my sources, not well at all. Can you blame him? XOXO, Gossip Girl._

The events of Bart Bass's funeral swirled around in Chuck's head, a terrible memory that was eating away at his brain. He had lost his cool, lost his calm, lost his confidence in himself and the people around him. Drinking was not helping the cause, nor was his lingering thoughts about the missing envelope of Bass family secrets. Vanessa Abrams was helping even less.

It was not Vanessa that was the problem, Chuck knew. She had only tried to help. But the fact that he was at his father's funeral, drunk, angry, alone, and still thinking about her was making him nervous. How was it that she was able to permeate his thoughts even at his darkest moments? Was she adding the light…or more clouds? Chuck couldn't be sure. And to be honest, it was Blair he needed right now.

Blair Waldorf would take the abuse. She would let him yell or cry or leave. She would allow him the outbursts that could have the potential of scaring Vanessa away forever. Blair and he were alike, maybe too much alike, but in his time of need he knew she would be there, whether he liked it or not.

After all the glad-handing was done, all the pretense lost, and after his fallout and partial reconciliation with Lily, Chuck knew there was only one place he could go. There was only one place he needed to be.

Chuck sat on Blair's bed, his hands tucked inside his coat pockets, his head hung low. Blair sat beside him, a cup of hot coffee in her hand. She silently passed it to him and Chuck promptly produced his bottle of scotch, hidden somewhere on his person, and poured a splash into the coffee. Blair turned up her nose as he took a hot swig.

For the second time in two days a woman was looking after Chuck Bass. There was something about being taken care of that made him feel like a boy. Not that he had ever truly experienced a maternal upbringing, but feeling Vanessa hold him and watching Blair dote on him made him think about what it would have been like to grow up with a mother. But he wasn't using either girl; he knew that, he knew that he couldn't. Despite everything people thought of Chuck Bass, despite everything he thought of himself, he genuinely craved the comfort, partly because it was from those two specific women.

Chuck let his limbs go limp and his head fall forward, as if preparing to sleep in a sitting position. Blair swiftly took the coffee mug from him and placed it on her nightstand. She then cradled his form in her arms and moved him back to the head of her bed. She pulled his shoes off and then tucked him in for the night.

She crawled into bed behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He exhaled loudly and let himself fall into slumber beside her, but it was interrupted by doubt and fear and dread. Chuck Bass just could not let go. Even if Blair loved him, even if she had said it, the reasons they couldn't be together still existed, and now Chuck had an empire to run. He tossed and turned beside her wondering what to do next. Why did he always have to think about the future?

Slipping out of bed in the dark, it felt like a repeat of his previous night at Vanessa's, except this time he thought it only fair to leave a note. Blair had poured her heart out to him, opened herself up to ridicule and rejection, something she was not fond of doing. She had bared herself, braving the likely consequences. Vanessa had done no such thing. Was that why he still thought of her? Was it all about the chase?

Chuck placed the note on the pillow beside Blair and then fled into the morning once more.

Walking the streets of New York City, still clad in his funeral clothes, now wrinkled and stained with sweat, Chuck looked less like the heir to a fortune and more like a vagabond. He had a wad of cash in his pocket, but nowhere to go. As the cold air hit his face, stinging him, making his eyes red, Chuck realized he had never walked alone before, at least not more than a few blocks. He had never truly taken in the New York atmosphere, the sights and sounds of the street at daytime. He had never really cared about anything other than the clubs, restaurants, and hotels that bared his family name. Brushing past people, pushing his way from corner to corner, he felt the anonymity he desperately craved. Chuck felt the life he was so sure he had lost.

Then his bubble burst.

"Chuck?"

He heard his name called from behind him and reluctantly turned around. Vanessa was standing, wrapped in a beautiful tweed coat with a grey hat and scarf covering her from the cold. She was wearing a smile on her face and while Chuck was unhappy about being recognized he relented because it was by her.

"How are…" Vanessa began, but then realized her mistake. Who wants to hear that question? Who wants to feel the pity? Vanessa had already showered him with that type of emotion and it had not gone over well. He had fled, as he almost always did. "Hi," she said instead.

"Hi."

"Where are you headed?" she asked.

"Anywhere," Chuck answered.

Vanessa took the scarf from around her neck and slipped it around Chuck's. It was a familiar act that made Chuck think of a simpler time, a time he had once thought was complicated, but now wished he could return to. He silently accepted her kind gesture, letting her tighten the scarf around his bare neck and stuff it down the front of his blazer. He looked ridiculous and Vanessa couldn't help but laugh. She suddenly caught herself, stopping the noise, thinking herself stupid for laughing at such a time.

"You can laugh," Chuck told her, reading her movements. "Just don't expect me to."

"I wouldn't dare."

Chuck turned around to walk away from her, but Vanessa caught his stride and followed suit. To a passerby they looked like two old friends, just waking and talking, just out to have a good time.

"I heard you had it out with Dan," Vanessa said as they strolled down the sidewalk, no real destination in mind. "He said you blamed him, blamed Rufus for the …." Vanessa trailed off. She didn't know what to say. She wondered if she should have been there at the funeral, but she thought since he had left that morning it meant he didn't want her there. "I just think its weird that you can take their kindness one night and then hate them the next." Vanessa immediately regretting saying it, regretting letting her mouth ruin the moment.

"I didn't know then what I know now. I suppose you know it too, creeping by streetlight to find the information to blackmail me. I knew you were too good to be true. Next time I suggest you cover your tracks better, literally, since the snow has a tendency to seal them."

"Temporarily."

"What?" Chuck asked, picking up his pace, but she stayed in line.

"The snow only stores shoeprints temporarily. My guess, you're not basing your accusations on fact, but rather anger. And it's not even anger at me. Besides, you read the envelope before you came over the other night, so what's really going on?" Vanessa said.

Chuck didn't respond.

"Fine then. If you want I can trade you."

Chuck stopped and stared at her as Vanessa produced the envelope pieces from her bag.

"You give me the scarf back and I'll give you this."

"You want the scarf back? So much for generosity."

"You're the one who started it Bass. Can't trust anyone can you?"

"Do I have a reason to?"

"Well, maybe if you had stayed the night like I thought you would, I could have made you breakfast. Then over o.j. and eggs I could have told you how I regretting leaving the information in the trash, and I went to get it, so that way you would know it was safe. Because, to be honest, you never really wanted me to have it in the first place."

Vanessa reached up and took the scarf in one hand, pulling tight as it slipped from Chuck's neck and back into her possession. She then passed him the envelope halves and began to walk away. Chuck could only smile to himself and follow.

"You think you know everything?" Chuck asked when he caught up with her, taking the scarf back from her and placing it once again around his neck.

"Not everything, but enough," Vanessa said as she took the envelope halves back and put them in her bag. Chuck stared at her, a glimmer of fear in his eye. "Don't worry. They're safe here. I can't read them by osmosis."

"You haven't read them?"

"No."

Chuck and Vanessa walked along the sidewalks of New York, their outer shells beginning to soften. They were suddenly finding their groove, their niche, their place together.

"Can you really cook breakfast?" Chuck asked.

Vanessa giggled. "No. I would have had to pop tart it."

"Classy," Chuck let slip under his breath.

"So where should we go?"

"We?"

"Well, I figure you're hiding from someone, or something, and it can't be me or this conversation would have ended before it began. So…let's go somewhere. Let's do something."

"To get my mind off it," Chuck said, as if he was finishing her thought. "You don't have to placate me, or baby-sit me."

"I'm not. I'm alone. You're alone. Why don't we be alone together? We don't even have to talk if you don't want to."

Chuck kept walking, taking in her offer.

"But talking is sort of your best feature, so maybe we should be careful not to ruin your wit."

"You can stop trying to make me laugh. I really don't deserve it," Chuck said.

Vanessa stopped before him. "No, you really don't."

Chuck wondered why he was even considering her proposition. Blair had tried to help him in the same manner, yet he had pushed her away. Why was it different with Vanessa?

Maybe it was because she was just different? Different from Blair? Different from himself? Different….

"Are you coming?" Vanessa asked as she headed down the steps to the subway.

The subway. Chuck shook his head in amazement. "I'm coming."

_Sometimes mourning doesn't happen the way people think it should. No black coats or eulogies. No overwrought tears or long, drawn out meltdowns. Sometimes people have to do things their own way. But for Upper East Siders appearance is almost always everything. So when Chuck Bass is seen strolling through NYC with a Brooklynite on his arm is it time to worry? Maybe he just needs some space, some time away. Or maybe the death of the senior Bass has put him on a new life track. Only time will tell. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	16. A Broken Bottle Part 1

_I spy with my little eye someone riding the rails beneath the streets of the Upper East Side. Normally this wouldn't be news, but the passenger in question is one who would never dare to be seen on public transit. But I guess when your daddy dies and you realize you all alone there's no better place to be than with the nameless millions of New York City. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Chuck Bass had never ridden on the subway; at least not that he could remember. His life had been filled with limo rides, maybe that of a Mercedes or Rolls Royce, but certainly not public transit. He felt different, clutching the aluminum pole that shot up from the subway floor, bouncing against strangers as the cars stopped and started again. He wrapped Vanessa's scarf around his neck again and again until there was no fabric left, as if he was trying to cover all his exposed skin.

"They won't bite," Vanessa said from her place before him.

She was holding on to the back of his jacket, the subway so full there was no more space for her to place her hands near his. They were pressed against one another, almost face to face, her arms wrapped around him to the back. From far off they looked like any normal couple, but they each knew they were anything but normal.

"You never know, they could be hungry," Chuck quipped back to her.

Vanessa laughed as passengers lunged forward with the movement of the car and she found herself pressed up against him. After their kiss, however, it no longer felt strange to be that close to him, to smell him and touch him and want him. Vanessa simply let her body merge into his as the subway moved on once more. She felt Chuck's free arm wrap around her shoulders in an attempt to keep her from being crushed, but to Vanessa it felt more intimate.

"Why did you leave?" she asked suddenly, looking into his eyes, her own eyes large, deep, and beautiful.

Chuck looked back, knowing what she was asking, but unsure of how to respond. He swallowed hard and then looked away. It was always easier to tell the truth when he was shielded from inquisitive eyes. "I had somewhere else I had to be."

"Home."

"That was one place."

"Blair's."

"Yes."

Vanessa realized they had no stop, no destination, in mind. They were aimlessly riding the rails and now that he was being so truthful she wished they were going somewhere. She wished their stop would come so she could bolt from the car, escape the recycled air, and free herself from Chuck Bass.

"I want you to know," Chuck began, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "that I needed that time with you. And I don't regret it. Some things just happen. Some things are meant to happen."

Vanessa was not sure if he was referring to their kiss or his disappearing act in the morning. But either way he was right; some things were meant to happen. Perhaps she was meant to see him on the street, meant to take him on the subway, meant to keep his mind of Bart Bass' death. Maybe she was meant to be with him, at this particular moment in time, for a specific reason they had yet to determine. Perhaps it wouldn't always be about Blair.

Chuck could tell that she was thinking, the wheels in her head turning in overdrive, her face a wash with doubt and confusion.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, a smirk growing on his face.

"There you go again Bass. Just when I think you're a nice guy you say something like that," Vanessa said as the subway came to a halt.

She grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled tight, leading him off the subway and into the station.

"Let me tell you," she said, turning to face him, "you're nothing to get jealous over."

"Really?" he questioned, following her up the steps to the streets of New York.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I've had better," she teased.

Chuck laughed, just slightly, but then his eye caught sight of the newsstand at the subway entrance and a picture of his father gracing the front page of the New York Times. Instantly, he felt guilty for feeling anything other than grief, even if it was only for a moment.

Vanessa turned back, wondering where Chuck had gone. Wadding through the crowd of exiting commuters she found him next to the newsstand staring at the photo of Bart Bass. She wasn't sure how to proceed, but Chuck was. He grabbed the paper from the stand and began ripping it to shreds, pieces of newsprint flying into the cold air and landing about the sidewalk. The newsstand employee screamed at Chuck in a language Vanessa did not understand, but she knew she had to stop him, stop them both, and stop the scene. Vanessa interjected herself between the two men, but it was too late, Chuck already had his hands on the entire pile of newspapers and was destroying them with abandon.

The headlines were torn apart. No more "Death of a Tycoon" or "A Family in Tatters". No more New York Daily News or New York Post. No more eulogies or critiques. No more Bart Bass.

Chuck panted as he tore the remnants of his father's life apart. His cold breath crystallizing in the air, his tears freezing at the corners of his eyes, his hands shaking in the wind.

As she looked around, Vanessa could see strangers with camera phones flipped open and mouths agape. Again she pressed herself against Chuck, but not in an intimate way, in an aggressive, forceful way, pushing him back from the newsstand and away from the crowd. As the employee shouted after them Vanessa forced Chuck down the street. He was still clutching pieces of torn newspapers in his hands.

"What was that?" she asked when they were far enough away, turning him down an alley to allow him space to calm down.

Chuck, out of breath and welling up with tears, dropped the shreds of paper and fished from his jacket pocket a bottle of scotch. Vanessa almost laughed when he produced it, thinking she could expect nothing less from him, but wanting a sip to calm her nerves either way. Instead of drinking it however, Chuck threw the bottle with tremendous force against the concrete, glass shattering into miniscule pieces and covering the cuffs of Vanessa's pants.

As Vanessa attempted to survey the damage from the broken bottle Chuck swiftly and startlingly grabbed her by the shoulders hard. He looked her deep in the face, his expression one of anger and hated, but not directed at her. Either way, his actions were making Vanessa scared. She had never been scared of him before.

"My father did it. He hired someone to scare you away from me. Just like he hired someone to tail Serena and just like he tried to put a wedge between Eric and his boy toy. My father did it to control me, my image, my name."

Chuck's hands were still clenched into her shoulders, and as Vanessa tried to pull away he pressed her back against the brick wall. Vanessa knew he would never physically hurt her, but in his state anything could unintentionally happen. She suddenly had to protect not only him, but herself. She was the only one expected to be thinking clearly, but with Chuck on the brink how could she? She wanted nothing more than to dissolve with him, to truly understand his grief and perhaps grow closer to him in the process. But she did not have that luxury, and she could never be so selfish as to use his pain for her pleasure. Instead, Vanessa winced as Chuck's hands dug deeper into her shoulders. She winced, but did not move.

"Don't you get it? I'm my father's son. I'm my father. His life, his reputation, his deeds…that…is…my…LEGACY." Chuck screamed to the heavens finally releasing her shoulders, bringing his hands to his face to prevent the tears.

"I don't want to be this way anymore," Chuck quietly said.

Vanessa's heart broke in two.

"Come on," she said, taking him by the arms and leading him out of the alley, stepping over the broken glass. "Let's get you home."

"Home?" Chuck questioned as he pried himself from her grip. "I don't have a home."

"Chuck, I want to help, but you have to let me."

"You want to help?"

"Of course I do," she said sternly.

"Then don't tell anyone you saw me," he responded starting down the street once more.

"What? After your little stunt at the newsstand I think all of New York will know we were together today," she retorted following him as he walked briskly through the crowd. She knew he was a man with a mission. "Chuck, please. Stop."

He did.

"I just wanted to go somewhere with you."

"Europe. Or maybe Asia. Have you ever been to Hong Kong?"

"What?"

"You wanted to go somewhere, I'm telling you where I want to go," he responded.

"That's not what I meant. Besides I don't walk around with my passport handy."

Chuck pulled his passport from the inside pocket of his jacket and waved it in her face.

"I guess I'll be traveling alone," he told her.

Vanessa grabbed his arm as he tried to leave. His mood had changed so drastically, so completely, there was only one thing she could do...only one thing left for her to say. "I forgive you."

Again Chuck tried to pull away, but Vanessa held tight.

"I can't begin to understand how hard this is for you. I can't even imagine…" Chuck turned his face away, but Vanessa used her free hand to cup his chin and turn it back. "I can't even imagine what this is like, and how or if you'll be able to get thorough it. If riding the subway and talking and flirting with me isn't the way for you that's fine. But I need you to know that I forgive you. So stop using me as an excuse to punish yourself."

She released him, but he didn't flee.

"If you have to go, then go," she told him. "Do what you need to in order to move on."

"What if I can't? What if this is all that I get? All that I deserve?" he asked, not truly directing the question to her, but rather asking himself what his own worth was.

Vanessa didn't have time to respond. Chuck simply held her close, for only a second, a tight, short hug. Then he kissed her gently on the forehead and headed out again into the crowds of the city in order to get lost.

_A picture speaks a thousand words, and since I have dozens of pictures of Chuck Bass destroying some of New York's finest newspapers I guess I could write a book. Then again, I hear he's fleeing the city, no more pictures to be had. So if you didn't see it yet, check out the prince grieving over the death of his king. And while you're at it let me know if you see Chuck in the flesh. We're all searching for him, but I think one special someone really wants…make that needs…to know his whereabouts. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	17. A Broken Bottle Part 2

_To all my favorite New Yorkers, the holiday season is abound, but for some there's no joy to be found. So instead of hanging stockings and trimming the tree there are public outbursts and disappearing acts. But hey, that's just the way Upper East Siders celebrate the passing of time, and prepare for the new year. Friends fall away and enemies draw close, but I say the more the merrier. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Vanessa walked into the Humphrey loft and set her bag down on the kitchen counter. She removed her coat and gloves, and then stopped, wondering for a moment where her scarf was. When she realized the answer she smiled to herself, before turning toward the couch. Her smile quickly faded when she saw Blair Waldorf sitting precariously on the edge of her seat, obviously waiting for her.

"I see you've added breaking and entering to your arsenal of tricks," Vanessa quipped as she walked toward Dan's room to retrieve a sweater. Even inside, the New York winter was eating at her bones.

"What the hell have you done?" Blair called after her.

Vanessa grabbed a sweater and pulled it over her frame, her curly hair growing unruly from the static. She quickly glanced at herself in the mirror, wondering if she was up to the task of taking on Blair once more, but she shrugged off the negative thought, exhaled deeply, and prepared to face the firing squad.

"Excuse me?" Vanessa questioned when she found herself facing Blair again.

Blair stood up, as if to emphasis her anger. "What the hell have you done?"

"I assume you're talking about Chuck."

"You assume right Abrams," Blair snapped.

"Nice to see we're back on a last name basis," Vanessa called as she moved to the refrigerator and grabbed herself a bottle of water. As Blair followed Vanessa silently offered her one, but Blair scoffed at the gesture.

"What the hell have you done?" Blair asked again, the question becoming more important than the answer ever could be.

"What have I done?" Vanessa finally cried in response, slamming the fridge shut. "Really? You are so unbelievable. I've been trying to help."

"You drove him away."

"No Blair. He did that all by himself."

Vanessa moved into a confrontational position, standing face to face with Blair, somehow thinking that if she were determined enough Blair would back down. She should have known better. Blair only stared her down, participating in a contest Vanessa could not win. She relented and turned away.

"Look Blair, I like Chuck, I think you know that, but I won't defend his every move the way you do. Sometimes people make mistakes and sometimes people run away. And sometimes you just have to let them do it."

"If you really liked him you wouldn't say that."

"The difference between us is you want to control him. You want to mother him, and while that may seem fine right now, while he's grieving, in the end he'll resent you for it."

Blair seemed startled by the accusation and Vanessa wondered if what she had said was true. Vanessa could never tell what Blair was thinking. Despite her bravado she was very guarded, but Vanessa knew they shared something…someone. Perhaps she could understand a Waldorf if given the time.

"You don't know him like I do," Blair finally said silently.

"And you don't know him like I do," Vanessa responded.

"I'll take that water now," Blair said, situating herself back on the couch. She was taking off her coat and getting comfortable, as comfortable as someone like her could be in the Humphrey loft. Vanessa knew they could be in for the long haul.

Vanessa retrieved the water and passed it to Blair, then she sat next to her, both facing forward.

"Why are you here?" Blair asked.

Vanessa knew what she was referring to. "After the…incident…I decided to stay here…"

"I get it," Blair cut her off. "I used to retreat to Serena's when my parents were fighting."

"I guess Dan is my Serena," Vanessa joked, taking a long gulp of cold water, feeling it cool the lumps in her throat.

"Dan Humphrey is no Serena," Blair said, but then caught Vanessa's angered look and corrected, "I mean, he's not nearly as pretty."

Vanessa found herself laughing, not a full body laugh, but enough to realize that Blair was a person too.

"Are we sharing?" she asked.

"No!" Blair said sternly. "No, of course not. We're talking. Just talking."

"I don't know where he went," Vanessa began. "I mean if that's why you came here, I swear I don't know."

Vanessa was partly lying. She knew Chuck had spoken of Europe and Asia, but those were big places with many people. And in truth, it could have all been just talk. Vanessa didn't want to be the one to worry Blair, as much as it made her smile to see Blair squirm. Times were tough for them both, and she thought it best to keep her cool, and keep the calm.

"Of course you don't," Blair said. "I mean, why would he tell you where he was going?"

Vanessa knew Blair was simply trying to reinforce her own status with Chuck, trying to buoy herself in light of all that had happened. Vanessa didn't want to shatter the illusion.

"I saw the pictures," Blair said.

"You and everyone else, I'm sure. Newsboys everywhere are on alert."

"He didn't look good," Blair silently spoke, the crack in her voice audible.

"He'll be fine," Vanessa said, trying to sound reassuring.

Blair stood up once more, slamming the open bottle of water on the coffee table, tiny splashes of liquid pooling on the wood.

"You don't know that," she told Vanessa. "You think you know him, but Chuck and I have been friends longer than he's known you, longer than he's known anyone. I know what Chuck needs and gallivanting through New York City is not it. He has patterns, bad patterns of behaviour, and if you don't watch him he could slip back into them."

"I think he already has," Vanessa truthfully relented.

"That's not helping. Thinking like that is not helping."

"What do you want from me Blair? You were at the funeral and from everything I've seen and heard he was drunk. So all your mighty talk about protecting him is obviously just talk, because you were unable to keep him safe and sober then."

"If I had the time, the opportunity…."

Vanessa cut her off. "What? You'd save him?"

Blair grabbed her coat from the edge of the couch and quickly wrapped it around her body. She stormed toward the door, but Vanessa caught her arm and stopped her.

"I'm sorry," Vanessa said.

Blair turned to her, a tear visibly falling down her cheek. "He needs me."

Vanessa had nothing left to say. Blair did know him longer, perhaps even better. Maybe he needed her more. Maybe that's why he fled her home in the pre-dawn hours, fled her bed, fled the warmth she had tried so hard to provide. Perhaps if Chuck had told Vanessa how he had left Blair in almost the same way, she wouldn't feel so helpless. But given what she knew Vanessa began to wonder if Chuck Bass was the man for her.

Blair stepped forward and they both heard a crunching noise escaping from under her high heel clad feet.

"What is that?" Blair asked, gently pulling her arm away from Vanessa so she could bend down and inspect her shoes. When she returned upright she was holding a piece of glass. "Why is there glass all over?"

Vanessa quickly understood that it was the glass from Chuck's broken scotch bottle, glass she had tracked into the loft on the cuffs of her pants. It was a painful, but tangible, element of Chuck's grief. It was proof that there were some things Blair did not, could not, know about Chuck Bass. Vanessa slyly smiled to herself, realizing there may be more fight in her left.

"I guess no where in Brooklyn is clean," Blair said, as she wiped her foot down on the hardwood scrapping all the glass off, and probably damaging the floor.

"I think you secretly like Brooklyn," Vanessa said as she moved back toward the kitchen, opening a random drawer and rummaging through the papers inside.

"I do not. Brooklyn is not for people like me," she said resolutely.

"Well you sure do come here a lot. I mean, the gallery, the loft, and you just can't help but visit me every chance you get," Vanessa baited, her joke making Blair partially smile.

"Nice try, but you are the last person on earth I'd want to visit," she said sitting on one of the three stools that hugged the edge of the kitchen island.

Vanessa turned back to her with a stack of menus in her hands. "Okay, so no visiting, but how about eating? I mean you gotta eat right?"

Blair was silent, still, for a moment. Vanessa knew she was thinking about the proposition. Was it a surrender to stay, to share a meal? Was it a sign of weakness to pretend, just for an instant, that they could be friends?

"Fine, but I get to choose. No greasy pizza joints for me," Blair said, taking the menus from Vanessa's hands and rummaging through them. "This doesn't mean we're friends."

Vanessa smiled. "I wouldn't dream to think so."

"Do you think…" Blair began, but stopped herself.

"What?" Vanessa asked.

"Do you think he'll call me?"

"Yeah, I do. He'll call. You'll see."

She let Blair look through the menus as she packed her purse and coat off to Dan's room. Tossing them on the bed, the envelope halves peeked out from her bag. Vanessa had forgotten about them, and seemingly so had Chuck. As much as she wanted to respect Chuck's privacy, she couldn't help herself, couldn't help but want to know him better. It was no longer about proving her assumptions right or proving his family wrong. It was about finding a way to get closer to him.

As she pulled out the papers from both halves of the torn envelope, preparing to lay them back together, Vanessa caught glimpse of a death certificate. She knew it wasn't Bart's, she knew it was much worse. Quickly scanning the page Vanessa stopped herself, forced herself to respect what little privacy Chuck had left, because if his mother had been alive she would want to be the kind of girl he would introduce her to. She stuffed the certificate and all the pages under her coat and walked to the door.

Before returning to the kitchen Vanessa took one last look at the pile of information she knew was resting on Dan's bed. Curiosity was one thing, but she could overcome it. How could anyone overcome the loss of two parents? Was Blair right? Were there patterns she failed to see? Was danger just around the corner? Was a broken bottle the least of their worries?

Where was Chuck Bass?

As Vanessa closed the bedroom door, her cell phone began to vibrate, shaking loose of its hiding spot under her jacket. The caller ID screen read: Chuck.

_The question has been whispered throughout the elite, upper circles for days now. Where was Chuck Bass? I have my sources, and my own personal hunch, but I don't think it will be of any comfort to the Queen B. My dearest apologizes Blair. And to you, Vanessa, my heartfelt condolences; but don't worry, if it all ends, I hear second place isn't that bad. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	18. An Aged Mix

_It looks like Chuck Bass has left New York. Girls and bars throughout the city mourn his absence. But where did the dark prince go? I can't be sure, but my sources say his passport my have one more stamp in it. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Vanessa had spent the past few days keeping herself busy, trying to stay clear of the Upper East Side, and trying to keep her mind off Chuck Bass. After her meal with Blair, an awkward sharing of Thai food that resulted in very little conversation and even more unanswered questions, Vanessa had fled the Humphrey loft. She no longer wanted to look at that bed, all it did was remind her of Chuck, and the longer he was away the more important a symbol it became.

The gallery work was fairly demanding as the holiday season brought in new artists and buyers and she periodically felt comfort in her own space, even though it was in an empty family apartment. But every once and a while she caught her own reflection in a mirror or tainted window and wondered why she looked so haggard. Perhaps it was the stress, the worry. She still wanted to know where he had gone.

Vanessa poured herself a cup of black coffee, trying to keep herself awake on the job as she waited for Rufus to return from a shipment. When she turned around Blair Waldorf was in her sights.

"You just can't get enough, huh?" Vanessa said as she took small, careful sips of hot liquid.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm only here for information," she responded walking to the counter and placing her designer handbag on the slate top.

"This is familiar," Vanessa said.

"I don't know what you mean," Blair said, searching through her purse for her vibrating cell phone.

Vanessa knew she was pretending they hadn't shared food, thoughts, feelings. Vanessa knew Blair would rather die than admit they had a moment together as people, not enemies. Blair flipped her cell phone open and began typing on the mini keypad.

"Am I interrupting?" Vanessa quipped, partly insulted by Blair's lack of interest even though it was she who sought Vanessa out.

"No, I'm done," Blair said smartly, returning the phone to her bag. "So, have you received a call?"

"Well, I don't know who that was, but I don't think they've called me yet," Vanessa said. "You can wait here for it, if you want."

"Cute," Blair said exhaling loudly. She quickly scanned the area, but there were only two other patrons looking at art. Quietly, covertly, she proceeded, "I meant, did you get a call from Chuck?"

"Not that I know of," Vanessa said, placing her coffee on the counter and returning to her work.

"What does that mean?"

Vanessa sighed. "If you must know, I can't find my cell phone. I just assumed you took it. You know, to get a one up on the competition."

Blair smiled slyly. "You're getting better at this quick wit thing, but not nearly good enough. I don't have your phone."

"Well, I can't help you."

Blair grabbed her bag and headed for the exit.

"If he called, would you even tell me?" Blair asked suddenly, her back still turned to Vanessa.

"I guess it would depend on what he had to say," Vanessa answered honestly.

Blair turned to Vanessa, a look of disappoint with the answer a wash on her face. Vanessa knew she had wanted to hear that she would rush to her side with any news of Chuck's whereabouts or state of mind. Vanessa knew Blair expected full disclosure. She wasn't in the position to give it, even if Chuck had called, Vanessa wanted to keep his secrets secret.

Sitting at the Humphrey family table, eating spicy noodles and tom yam, passing take out boxes between them, Vanessa desperately wanted to talk to someone about Chuck. She wanted to tell someone how she felt. She wanted to ask questions, and actually expect honest answers. The torn envelope hiding in Dan's room weighed on her mind throughout the meal and it took all her will not to spill its first page contents to Blair. She had to hold herself back from asking how Chuck's mother died and how it had affected him. She had to hold herself back from having a real conversation. That was the trouble with falling for a guy no one wanted her to fall for.

If Chuck called, if he trusted her enough to call, Vanessa couldn't let Blair know.

"Well, at least your honest," Blair said before heading down the stairs and out the gallery.

Vanessa knew honesty was a hard commodity to come by.

As she turned back to her work, the monotonous task of filling sugar bowls and replacing coffee filters, she heard footsteps behind her once more. Shaking her head in amazement at Blair's persistence Vanessa turned around, fully prepared to tell the Waldorf what she thought, but instead of finding a well-dressed woman before her, she found a disheveled Dan.

"What happened?" Vanessa asked rounding the counter and coming to his side. He was panting heavily.

"I got here as fast as I could," Dan said, fishing through his pockets, his hands fumbling and shaking from the cold.

"What's wrong? Is it Jenny? Your dad? Is everyone okay?" Vanessa questioned with concern. The Humphrey family was her family and she could not imagine losing any of them.

"No. No, they're fine," he finally let out as he found a chair and flopped heavily into it, his limbs stretching out awkwardly.

"Then what?"

"I have your phone."

Vanessa scoffed. "My phone? You ran here to give me my phone?"

"First, I didn't run…" he was still trying to catch his breath. "Perhaps it was a light jog."

"Well, then I hate to break it to you, but you could use some serious exercise."

"Second, I couldn't help myself, I swear, but I checked the call log."

Vanessa was still unclear of what Dan was referring to. Why did he seem so concerned?

"It's Chuck," he said taking Vanessa's hand and leading her to the seat beside him. "It's a lot of missed calls from Chuck."

Vanessa's mind was reeling. He had only been gone a few days. He hadn't said he was never coming back. He hadn't truly said anything. Why was he calling? And why was he calling so much? With her brain in overdrive, her heart began to beat, fast. He had called her and not Blair. Or had he called them both? Either way, he had called her.

"I didn't check them," Dan assured, and with that Vanessa's trance was broken.

She wanted to have the conversation with Dan that she didn't have with Blair, but she knew he wouldn't approve of her growing feelings. Vanessa knew he was delivering her phone in such haste because Bart Bass had just died. Vanessa knew Dan was being so helpful, not just for her, but for Lily and Eric and, of course, Serena, who were all concerned about Chuck and desperate to know his whereabouts.

"So he called? Big deal," Vanessa said taking her cell phone back from Dan once he had finally produced it from his pocket. "I have to get back to work. I can check the messages later."

"Are you sure?" Dan asked, his composure retuning.

"Yeah. It's probably nothing."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I mean a guy like Chuck Bass usually calls girls, the same girl, ten or so times just to chat."

"You want me to check them now. You want to know what he has to say so you can report back to Serena," Vanessa said.

"No. That's not…" Dan stopped himself from finishing. He hated lying. "Yes, ok. I want to be able to tell Serena he's alright, or not alright. But it's not just about her. It's also Lily and Eric. And you. Whatever he has to say must be important and I just want to be here for you."

"In case I need you?" Vanessa asked.

"In case you need me," he told her.

Vanessa moved toward Dan, still seated in the chair, and opened her arms to him. Leaning down she wrapped herself in a hug, he responded in kind, and they held one another for longer than Vanessa had intended, but just long enough to calm her nerves.

When she stood up she said, "I think I need to listen to them on my own."

Dan nodded in understanding.

"But I'll tell you, if there's any news. I wouldn't want anyone to worry." Vanessa wasn't sure if that was true or not, but she liked the way it sounded.

When Dan left and the gallery was closed, Vanessa found herself at the bar, the bar Chuck had saved. She suddenly loved the memory of him there, arguing with her on the sidewalk, standing before her at the door, breath on breath, flirting shamelessly without end. She loved the memory of a time when she wasn't constantly worried about him. She had never thought Chuck Bass would be someone she would need to worry about.

Sitting at the window, only a few customers in sight, Vanessa wrangled herself a glass of scotch from her favorite bartender. Illegal yes, but she liked the smell. She begged for the most aged bottle, the depth in year reminding her of Chuck. She was trying to image him wearing a smoking jacket and drinking a good aged glass of scotch in some far away land. She tried to picture him safe. Holding the glass under her nose, inhaling the scent of alcohol, the scent of Chuck, Vanessa gained the courage to bring up her voice mail and listen.

Once the first call was over Vanessa clasped her cell phone shut and bolted from the bar.

_Turns out Chuck Bass hasn't completely left New York City behind. He's still in contact with a few old friends. But what does it mean when someone runs away, but still cares about what they've run away from? I guess Chuck can't completely forget the past? But when you're a Bass and the heir to a fortune, can you ever truly forget your history? XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	19. A Case

_Sometimes you just can't tell what a person is thinking. A few weeks ago I would have told you that Chuck Bass wasn't thinking anything, too interested in ladies of the night, drinks, and the occasional drug. Now, however, my sources tell me he's thinking about a certain girl. Or two girls, to be more accurate. Ahhh, it feels like we've been here before. When will Chuck Bass choose? Who will he choose? Your guess is as good as mine. But I do think, despite earlier doubts, that it may be time for a certain Brooklyn beauty to take her place as the new queen to Chuck's king. Let's see what the true Queen B has to say about that. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Everything had changed. The whole world seemed to do an about face, up was down and day was night. There was no more solace, no more understanding, no more answers. It was a mess and Vanessa Abrams was swimming in its midst.

Clad in her p.j. pants and an old Full Metal Jacket t-shirt, Vanessa stretched her body toward the ceiling and shuffled herself out of bed. Black curls a tangle about her head and her makeup from the night before still smudged beneath her eyes, she felt the pang of loss run through her limbs making it hard to drag herself to the window. However, the view was one of majesty.

New York City was, is, an extraordinary place with an extraordinary view. But standing before the rolling hills and snow covered fields of Connecticut Vanessa wondered if she was a big city girl after all. Sure she was in proximity of the rural playground of the rich, but from her meagre vantage point looking out her aunt's guest bedroom window the rich were far from Vanessa's mind. Well, not all of the rich. There was one in particular she could not shake form her thoughts.

He was the reason for her escape from the city.

She was welcomed to the country with open arms and had been spending her days reading Kerouac and watching Kubrick. Vanessa had barely changed into regular clothes or brushed her hair. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself and trying to come to terms with her new found status, no longer a friend of the elite or even a prospect of the great Chuck Bass. Instead she was nothing, no one. She was as she was before.

There was a part of Vanessa, a much larger part than she cared to admit, that lamented her loss in friendship, courtship, and status. However, there was another part of her that didn't care what people thought. A part of her that was relieved to be back to the Vanessa she had always known. She was no one and she happened to like that.

Still curiosity always got the better of her and she couldn't help but wonder what was happening in New York. She wondered if she was missed.

Checking her cell phone, Vanessa could see that more missed calls had been logged the night before. Almost fifty calls in all from the time she left the city until the time she awoke that morning. They ranged from worried calls from Jenny and Rufus to frantic calls from Dan. Mingled in between all the concern were calls from Chuck, but Vanessa didn't have the stomach to listen to those calls. Although she had not deleted them either.

The last call from Chuck that Vanessa had listened to had caused more trouble than she could have imagined. Not trouble for him, but trouble for her. Trouble in the form of heartbreak.

The voice message that had caused her to bolt from the bar, caused her to feel lost and alone all over again, had been a message not for her, but for the infamous Blair Waldorf.

While the anger and disappointment seeped inside at the thought that Chuck, in his drunken, self-loathing stupor, had misdialed, Vanessa still wanted to ensure Chuck's safety. She had run to the subway and then upon arrival in the Upper East Side had run down the street to Blair's apartment, pushing past people and nearly knocking down a few.

At first Blair refused to speak to her, even see her, but the mere mention of a hurt or incapacitated Chuck made Blair come to her senses and crave running to his aide. Vanessa let her listen to the voicemails and then let her take care of preparing to take care of him. She stood in the wings, feeling helpless. She stood back and watched Chuck slip through her grasp.

Blair swooped in and contacted Jack Bass. Together they rescued Chuck. Together they nursed him back to a state of normality, which to be true wasn't very normal for Chuck in the first place. Together they took care of everything, while Vanessa took care of herself.

Then Vanessa had fled. All the while she thought of that phone message, that disappointing message: "I need you. I need you. I need help. Please….Blair, please."

She had taken the train to Connecticut to wallow in her own self-pity. It felt like it had when she and Chuck were at odds, at war. It felt like it had before she had begun to admit her feelings towards him. It felt awful.

Jenny's messages, and of course Gossip Girl, had kept Vanessa in tune with the goings on in New York City. She learned of the difficulties between Blair and Chuck, the immaturity he exhibited and the delusions she harboured. She began to understand who Jack was just as he was kicked out of town. Via the internet she watched the disintegration of Dan and Serena's relationship. She wanted to call her best friend, but she couldn't. Inevitably the conversation would lead back to her and her life and Vanessa knew she had no answers, not for Dan, not even for herself.

She felt incredibly weak at times and then alternately incredibly strong. She knew should be mad or angry or something, but the truth was she had forgiven Chuck that last day she saw him. She had forgiven him one indiscretion and while he had committed another, Vanessa no longer had the energy or passion to stay angry with him. It was easier to accept that Chuck Bass would always be Chuck Bass.

"Are you coming down for breakfast?" Vanessa heard her aunt ask through the closed bedroom door.

Vanessa thought for a moment. She wondered if it was time to go home, to go back. She wondered if she was ready to be alone again in the big city.

"No," she suddenly felt herself say. "I'm going back to New York."

Events had not gone as planned. Plans had disintegrated before her eyes. Her eyes had become overwhelmed with tears.

The days following Bart Bass's death and those in which Chuck was missing in action, Blair Waldorf had found herself unravelling. Normally she was composed, whether it was fake composure or not. Normally she was able to take on all the obstacles that came her way, but Chuck was wearing her thin.

Searching for him took up almost all of her time and after finding him, tending to him took over her life. Perhaps she had gone too far. Perhaps she was playing the role of the wife, but Blair wondered, sitting her bedroom after days of not speaking to Chuck, what was wrong with that?

Now was time to think of herself however, to think of her future rather than of Chuck. But as many girls knew Chuck was hard to forget. That night in the Humphrey loft sharing Thai food with Vanessa, Blair realized that Abrams was one of those girls. They shared more than she cared to admit, but Blair was certain that while the time may not be right she was still the woman for Chuck Bass.

However, there was to be another encounter that would put her resolve to the test. Vanessa was back in town, although Blair pretended she had not even known she was absent. She wanted to meet and while Blair loved a good verbal fight, and Vanessa was proving herself a worthy opponent, she was in no mood to explain Chuck's well-being or whereabouts to another.

Little did Blair know that Vanessa had no intentions of reminiscing.

Sitting in her room rather than waiting by the elevator, Blair knew Vanessa would be shown into the house. She wanted one more moment of solace before a confrontation, one more moment to herself. The moment did not last long.

"Nice room," Vanessa said, standing in the doorway. "It's exactly how I pictured it."

Blair smiled as she turned around to face her. "I think it's a bit creepy that you've been picturing my room, but I won't judge if you swing that way."

"If you must know I'm not doing any swinging at all," Vanessa replied. "And something tells me neither are you."

"Look, I think you know how much I love our little talks," Blair said sarcastically," but why did you come here? I thought you were M.I.A. just like ….."

Her voice trailed off as she realized Chuck was the last person she wanted to talk about.

"I've been thinking about it, about his being gone and the phone calls and you. I've been thinking and I just have one question."

"You left the Martha Stewart state to ask me a question? You know I have email right?" Blair retorted.

"Well well. I guess you're more informed about me than you initially let on."

"Don't flatter yourself. That Humphrey has a big mouth and he just refuses to use it for good." Blair got up off her bed and walked toward her closet pulling out a beautiful winter coat and scarf.

Vanessa immediately smiled when she saw the scarf, looking down at her own neck and chest knowingly basking in the knowledge that her scarf was somewhere else, with someone else.

As Blair put on her coat, obviously trying to signal to Vanessa that she was ready for her to leave, she said reluctantly "What's the question?"

"Who did you text?"

"Excuse me?" Blair asked, as she led Vanessa out of the room and down the stairs.

"That day at the gallery when you asked me to contact you if…"

"Yes, I know what day," Blair said cutting her off. Vanessa realized that Blair didn't even want Chuck's name to be mentioned.

"Well, that day you sent a text to someone. Who was it?"

"I don't know. Serena or someone. I can't possibly remember. And I can't figure out why it would even be important."

Vanessa turned to the elevator and pressed the button to go down. When the doors opened she stepped inside. "Are you coming?" Vanessa asked.

"No, I'll wait for the next one," Blair said. Vanessa laughed a little to herself and the doors closed.

Vanessa stood in the elevator satisfied as Blair stood in the hallway confused and scared. She knew the secrets were beginning again and they were going to be revealed.

Each morning Chuck Bass woke up feeling a little stronger, a little saner, a little more like his old self. Secrets, he believed, were a thing of his past.

Bart was gone and his family was fractured, but he had found Lily to be the parent, the compassionate parent, he never had. His life was falling into place. Despite his rift with Blair, something he had tried to fix, perhaps too little too late, and his awkward position as a fallen Bass trying to resurrect his image and his father's company, Chuck knew now was his time. Now was the time to recuperate and come back stronger than ever.

Still, he was without Vanessa Abrams. He had learned days after his arrival back in New York that she had abandoned the city for a destination unknown. For a moment he mentally scolded her for her cowardice, but she was only doing what he had done. She was only exhibiting the purest form of self-preservation.

He had called her again and again, trying to let her know that not only was he okay, but that he missed her. Except he wasn't about to say those words, the "I miss you" part. That was too unlike both the old and new Chuck Bass. No matter how many times he called, what message he wanted to leave, or what message he left instead, Vanessa did not answer.

Was she ignoring him? He would if he was her. He had not called her, not let her know where he was after that day on the street. He had told her his father was a bad man, maybe the worst where she was concerned, and she had forgiven him, forgiven him his earlier lies and his family shame.

Each day the sensation grew stronger and stronger, the sensation to ride the subway once more. As he thought about that moment in time he reached across the bed he had been laying in and opened a drawer on the night stand. Chuck pulled out Vanessa's scarf and smiled.

Just as Chuck began to let himself drift into thought there came a knock on the door.

"Are you coming down to breakfast?" he heard Eric call from the other side of the door.

"No," Chuck responded quickly. "I'm going out."

Chuck exited the building only to find Dan Humphrey sitting on the steps across the street. For a moment Chuck thought about leaving, walking past him and entering his car. But curiosity got the best of him and Chuck sauntered across the street and found himself sitting next to Dan and sharing the disappointment and depression that came when you didn't have the woman you wanted.

"Are you waiting for her?" Chuck asked, referring to Serena.

"It's that obvious, huh?" Dan said taking a sip of his coffee, trying to stay warm.

"Well, you aren't waiting for me," Chuck said astutely.

Dan smiled. "No. No I'm not."

"She left. She left a while ago. I think she was meeting Blair," he offered the lovelorn Brooklynite.

"I see," Dan responded. "Well, thanks I guess." Dan prepared to leave, but Chuck stopped him.

"Don't give up," Chuck said silently, prompting Dan to turn around and face him. "Don't let her go."

Dan stood silent for a moment and Chuck knew that they were both unsure of what to say. Dan found himself sitting next to Chuck once again, taking in another gulp of coffee. Together they waited, waited for something and nothing at the same time.

"She went to Connecticut," Dan finally let out, perking Chuck's interest, although he tried to hide it.

"Who?" Chuck asked, but they both knew who.

"She left right after you did. I guess you both think alike," Dan said.

Chuck suddenly stood up and began to cross the street back toward his car.

"You should call her," Dan called after him.

Chuck turned back once he was on the other side. "So should you."

"I think Serena and I are sitting this one out," Dan said as he walked toward Chuck to join him at the side of the limo. "Maybe its not our time. Again."

Dan shrugged sheepishly. Chuck nodded, as if he understood.

"Call her," Dan suggested again. "I think she might need to hear from you."

Chuck opened the car door and began to slip inside. "I have called her," he said and gave Dan a knowing look.

"I guess were both being ignored," Dan said before walking back toward the subway.

As Chuck rode toward his father's company headquarters, soon to be his company, he wondered if he should have given Humphrey a ride, but he knew that would be a more awkward situation than he could handle.

Looking at the floor of the limo just before his feet Chuck noticed a case of scotch. He wondered if he had bought it in a previous drunken stupor, bought it to help lubricate his partying and help drown his dreams. However, as he looked at the brand, the same brand he had so often shared with Vanessa, Chuck knew why he had bought it. Even in an intoxicated daze Chuck realized he was still thinking of the Brooklyn girl.

Chuck fumbled in his coat pocket for his phone and then once more dialed Vanessa's number. He was sure she would not answer, he needed her not to answer because if she did he had no idea what he would say. Taking a deep breath and calming himself, Chuck waited as the line rang and rang. Just as he was about to hang up a click resonated through his ear and a familiar voice revealed itself on the other end.

Chuck Bass was speechless.

Walking away from Blair's luxury apartment Vanessa finally decided it was time to check her messages, time to check back in with reality. Vanessa had assumed their were more messages from Chuck given his number of calls, but there were only two. One was a hang up and the other was just what she needed. Standing on the sidewalk, her left hand pressed to her ear to help shield the city noise from interrupting the message, Vanessa smiled as she heard Chuck's voice.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

It was simple, short, but very sweet. Vanessa felt comforted suddenly and when the phone rang a moment later, still clenched in her hand, she knew she had to answer.

"Hi," she said, but there was no response. "I've been waiting for you."

_It looks like my hunch is right. Chuck and Vanessa are slowly coming back together and while I was sceptical at first about the merits of this coupling I must say I'm now a fan. Why, you ask? I just like a good juicy tale and nothing makes a better story than a bitter third party. And I've heard there has been another encounter between the two woman that make up Chuck's life; an encounter that has revealed to others what I already suspected. Who is Blair's secret friend? Think about it. He's just another bad guy. Two for the price of one and Vanessa reconnecting with Chuck. Look out Upper East Siders, Blair is about to explode. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	20. A Failed Toast

_I have to say I am a little disappointed in my legion of spies. Oh where, oh where, is information on one Chuck Bass and the girl who had earned herself a name? No pictures, no audio, no juicy gossip on the goings on of Chuck and Vanessa. I hate to say we may have dropped the ball on this one. Or maybe, just maybe, these two crazy kids haven't reconnected after all. No dinners, no drinks, no…well you know what. Perhaps I was wrong, or perhaps we'll just have to be patient. Who knows what goes on in Chuck Bass's mind? And who wants to know? Me. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"Oh, come on," Blair sighed as her books fell from her hands and toppled onto the sidewalk. She knelt down reluctantly, her skirt rising, her stockings stretching, to retrieve her belongings. Blair's brown hair, minus her signature headband, gathered in her face and she continually blew it out of eyesight in order to continue her task. She was in a precarious position, one that she would have had her minions complete, but since her waitlisted approval to Yale they seemed few and far between these days.

The look of Blair from across the street was one to behold, one to laugh at. Her legs were awkwardly angled in a crouching position and her hair blocked her entire face.

"Maybe you should wear a longer skirt," Dan Humphrey called as he walked along the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

Blair tilted her head up and over to stare at him, her eyes narrowed, her mouth pursed. "My skirt is just fine, thank you."

Dan crossed toward her. "Than I guess you're just not used to picking up after yourself." He knelt down with her and began helping pick up the books. When they were done and Blair had a handful again Dan reached under her left arm and helped her stand.

"Thanks," Blair said sheepishly as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and continued on down the street.

Dan followed. "Why so many books?"

"I don't know anything about Serena," Blair returned.

Dan sighed heavily. "I was just asking about the books," he said as he turned back to cross the street away from her.

Blair stopped in her tracks. She questioned her intentions for only a moment and then followed.

"Ok, ok," Blair let out. "I'm trying to up my GPA. Yale's looking at me through the store window so I have to be on my best behaviour."

"That'll be tough for you," Dan said.

"You know, I didn't cross the street to be verbally insulted," Blair returned.

"Well no one asked you to cross," Dan said coldly.

"I think it's you who will have trouble with the best behaviour thing," Blair turned to walk away once more, but Dan caught her arm to stop her. While his touch was gentle Blair was unused to carrying so many books and once again they toppled over onto the ground.

Blair sighed and stomped one foot in frustration.

"Sorry," Dan said. "I got it."

Dan bent down and quietly picked up the books, handing one by one back to Blair. They last three books, the heaviest three, he kept for himself.

"Where are you headed?" Dan asked her.

Blair reluctantly answered. "New York public library."

"I'll walk you," he said and together they crossed the street once more and headed to the library.

They were silent at first, too silent. The walk was awkward. Blair was sure that passer-bys would think they were a couple. A boy carrying her books, it was all so cliché. But she couldn't turn back or turn him away. It had been days since she had a conversation with anyone besides Dorota or, dreadfully, Vanessa. Serena was too busy feeling sorry for herself and the girls were once again acting without her. And Chuck. Well, Chuck had set his sights on another. So it was Dan Humphrey or no one.

"How's Vanessa?" Blair suddenly asked.

"Vanessa? You want to know about Vanessa?" Dan said incredulously.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Nice try," Dan said. "You call me out on wanting dirt on Serena, but then cover up your desire to hear about Chuck? Blair, I thought you were better than that."

"I know. I don't know what's happening. My capabilities of persuasion and misdirection have been severely damaged by this Yale shunning," Blair said honestly. As she watched Dan smile, she quickly added, "but don't underestimate me. I'm not your friend or anything."

"Don't worry Blair. Mortal or not, you'll never be my friend," he returned.

"Good."

There was silence once more, but only for a moment. Dan knew it just could not last.

"So how's Vanessa?" she asked again.

"Chuck's fine," Dan said. "At least last I heard, he's fine. Well, he's still a conniving, manipulative, womanizing Bass, but for him I guess that's just fine."

"Do you know where he is?" Blair asked.

"No. Should I?"

"He's with her," Blair offered.

"Ok. I know you're upset, but "her" as you so delicately say is Vanessa and she's my friend," Dan said sternly.

"Well, then he's with Vanessa," Blair quipped back.

"Then why were you just asking me about him?"

Blair did not answer.

"And how do you even know they are together?" Dan asked, but then he quickly shook his head. "You know what, don't tell me. I don't think I want to know."

"Well, my capabilities of persuasion haven't been completely decimated," she said slyly looking at Dan's hands which held her books.

"This? This is just me being a nice guy," Dan returned as they found themselves standing at the steps of the New York public library.

"We're here, nice guy," she said sarcastically taking back her books and ascending the steps.

Dan suddenly felt the pang of familiarity, reliving his earlier conversation with Chuck. Yes, he was sure they had been talking about Vanessa, but the advice rang true no matter who was the subject. And he had a mission to complete. Perhaps this was the only way.

"Don't give up," he shouted out to her.

Blair turned around and quickly descended toward him. Dan was not prepared for that.

"Don't give up? Don't give up?" she shouted accusingly. "You told me last year to give up. You told me to let him go, that he didn't love me. You are Vanessa's confidant and yet here you are telling me to not give up on the man that she wants too. What are you doing? Are you trying to kill me Dan?"

Dan held his hands up as if trying to fend off her verbal assault with his own body. "Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," she called as the people around them began watching the confrontation.

Dan once again gently took her arms and led her away from the steps. "I was wrong before," Dan said quietly. "I was wrong to tell you to let him go. No one, not anyone, has the right to tell you who to be with or who not to be with. I love Vanessa, I think you know that. She's what Serena is to you. But maybe, just maybe, she doesn't belong with Chuck."

Dan let go of her arm and began to walk away. Blair was left standing alone and confused. But she was determined, more determined than before. She knew what she had to do.

Dan turned the corner away from the library and found himself staring at the parked limo. Without question or hesitation he walked to the passenger side back door and entered.

"Did you do it?" Chuck Bass asked as he sipped his scotch.

"I don't feel right about this," Dan returned, gazing out the closed window as if the answers were on the other side.

Chuck passed a waiting glass of scotch to Chuck. "A toast," he announced.

"No," Dan told him. "No."

Dan opened the limo door and stepped back onto the street.

"Humphrey don't be foolish. We are both getting what we want," Chuck said, leaning over to talk with him while hanging out the door.

"See that's what I don't understand. I know what I want, but what is it that you want?" he asked.

"I want her to be happy," Chuck said.

"Blair or Vanessa?" Dan questioned.

"Both of them. And there's only one way to do that."

The limo door closed and the car took off down the street and out of sight.

"Was that Chuck?" Vanessa Abrams asked from her position standing behind Dan.

Dan whirled around, startled and embarrassed.

"Was it Chuck?" she asked again.

"Yes," Dan admitted.

"What were you doing?" she said. Dan knew she had no idea what was going on, no idea how he had the capacity to hurt her, intentionally or not. Suddenly both Chuck and Dan had the ability to break her heart.

"Nothing," Dan told her. "Just saying hi."

Vanessa raised her eyebrow in disbelief, but Dan cut her thoughts off. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I may be home schooled Dan, but I still use the library," Vanessa quipped.

Dan looked back at the library and then to Vanessa. "Let's get coffee first. Catch up," he offered.

"Yeah ok, but you're buying," she said laughing.

Dan nodded his head and then lead Vanessa away from the library to a local coffee shop.

"So, how's Chuck?" Dan asked, unable to quell his curiosity.

"Did I tell you about the phone call?" Vanessa asked. "Technology is going to be the end of me."

Dan felt guilty with that remark, but hid it well.

_Well, well, well. Friends are becoming enemies and enemies are becoming friends. It's a mad, mad world and poor Vanessa and Blair are suddenly finding themselves on the same team. But don't let them know, it will all come out soon enough. And please, somebody, get your camera phones back to targeting Lonely Boy because something tells me he's about to get interesting. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	21. An Imaginary Malt

_Are Chuck Bass and Lonely Boy friends? My sources say no, but I suspect they have a connection of some sort, and one that goes beyond sharing a cell. What could it be, you ask? My guess is it has something to do with a pretty girl or two. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"He was just so silent, so sullen. After all those calls and that damn message for Blair he really had nothing to say. I mean, what am I supposed to think? Right?" Vanessa said as she sipped her caramel latte with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Uncertainty in life made her diet uncertain as well. "Dan? Are you listening?"

Dan was staring out the window toward the New York Public library, as if waiting for someone to appear from its doors and run toward him. Vanessa wondered who he was looking for, wondered if perhaps Serena was inside or Rufus or Jenny. She wondered if he had been in the library and was longingly hoping to be back there now. Maybe she was talking about Chuck too much. When did she become that type of girl?

"Dan?" Vanessa said again, waving her free hand before his face.

Dan snapped out of his daze and turned back toward his friend. "Yeah?"

"I was talking and you were….well, doing that," she said pointing back to the window.

"Talking about Chuck?" Dan asked rolling his eyes.

"Hey, I remember you asking me about him. And I didn't hear you protest, just ignore me."

"Sorry. I have a lot on my mind," Dan said as his face suddenly went white.

Vanessa could tell he immediately regretted that last remark. It was an open invitation for her to ask him what specifically he had on his mind, what it was that plagued his thoughts. But she knew he did not want to talk about himself. If he had Chuck Bass would have been the furthest thing from his mind she was sure. Little did Vanessa know….

Breezing past his comment, Vanessa remarked, "No more Chuck talk. I promise."

"No, go on. Seriously," Dan said sympathetically.

Vanessa sighed. "I just don't understand what's happening. I forgave him, I forgave his father," she said, perking Dan's interest. "Ok, I told him I forgave him, which I guess entails Bart. And to be honest I'm not upset about that anymore. At least that was something that had purpose. As terrible as it sounds there was an end to that incident and here there's no end in sight."

Dan shook his head, but Vanessa doubted whether or not he understood.

She tried again. "I thought we were on the same page. Even if we aren't going to be…" Vanessa stopped, not knowing how to classify the romantic, flirtatious side of her relationship with Chuck. "I at least thought we would be friends."

"You are friends," Dan said. "You take care of him, after his father died you sat with him and talked with him. You listen and care about him."

"Yeah, yeah," Vanessa said, cutting him off. "Let's talk about something else. I think this is giving me a head ache. I'm trying to manipulate matter into scotch," she stated looking at her latte. Dan stared at it too. "It never works," she laughed.

"What is it with you and Chuck? Scotch is the aliment elixir of choice," Dan questioned. "You know it doesn't work right?"

"Ah, spoken by a man whose never had a good malt," she said sipping her latte slow and deliberately, as if it was containing the essential alcoholic nutrients she needed.

"Spoken by a man whose never had an imaginary malt," he corrected her.

Vanessa laughed. It was comforting to be back with Dan, comforting to feel comfortable again.

Her issues with Chuck still tugged at her heart and head. He had been so distant when they finally connected on the phone. She knew he wanted to talk to her, why else would he have called? Yet, it seemed as if there was something holding him back. It seemed there was always something holding him back. Still, she had asked if it, if she, was something worth pursuing and Chuck had said yes. There was a glimmer of hope mixed into heaps and heaps of confusion.

Time and time again, since the night he showed up at that run down bar to offer a promise of help, they had been playing a game of cat and mouse. It was a game that found them each taking the lead, then faltering, one after the other making a lead and then taking a fall. It was a game that seemingly had no winner.

Vanessa wondered if there was a winner, if a champion could be crowned, was it going to be her or Blair. No matter how much she wanted to ignore the obvious, Blair would always be in the picture. They were in some sort of struggle over the heart of Chuck Bass, but it was a struggle Vanessa never wanted to participate in. Sometimes she thought Blair revelled the challenge, loved the competition, and got off on the verbal and physical torment she laid into Vanessa. But as the days grew longer Vanessa realized they were very much alike. Perhaps Blair hated it as much as she did, perhaps Blair too was preserving her feelings, but not with funky clothes or the Brooklyn Bridge or even a trip to Connecticut. Perhaps it was Blair's seemingly surly behaviour, her mischievous ways, that saved her from the hurt that surely came from knowing Chuck Bass.

As Vanessa sat there wondering, pondering such questions, she realized she had been in that position before as well. She had felt sympathy for Blair and felt both anger and lust for Chuck. But she wasn't sure if she had actually felt love. And for that reason she decided…finally decided what to do.

"I have to go," she suddenly announced to Dan.

"What?" he asked as she stood up and put her coat back on. "Where?"

"There's just something I have to do," she stated heading to the door.

"V. wait," Dan called after her. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Can it wait until later?" she asked, her back tuned to him.

"I don't think it can," he said in return.

Vanessa turned back, a look of concern in her eyes. "What is it?" she asked, her voice filled with care.

"Are you going to see Chuck?" he asked.

Vanessa shook her head, but she wasn't signalling a negative response, merely confusion about how Dan was able to deduce such movements given her previous statements.

"I don't think you should," Dan began. "I don't think you two…"

"Stop." Vanessa held her hand up to his mouth and cut off his words. "If you're about to tell me that Chuck and I don't belong together or that I could get hurt or that I'm making a mistake I've heard it before. It's all I ever hear inside my own head."

Dan smiled, seemingly believing she had heard his plea and was about to take his silent advice.

"Dan, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," she said squeezing his shoulder, "But thanks for the concern."

Before Dan could say anything else, before he could convince her otherwise, she was out the door, heading away from the library and into the arms of someone Dan was sure she should avoid.

Chuck stood in the apartment Lily had graciously allowed him to move back into. He had just returned from his covert meeting with Dan Humphrey. He hated to admit it, after trying to change his image and retain his rights to his father's company, but scheming and secret keeping were among his favourite activities. He felt a rush after putting a plan into motion.

Lily, Eric, and Serena were all out. That was not unusually, given their newly hectic social lives, but the apartment felt empty, even as he stood in it. Somehow Chuck had become accustomed to having family around, although he would never tell them that he appreciated their company.

In the apartment, all alone, Chuck took off his suit coat and loosened his tie. There was no one around so he wasn't as concerned with appearances and ran his fingers through his perfectly coifed hair making it messy and free. Kicking off his shoes Chuck let himself into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water just as he heard the elevator reach his floor. He peered out from around the corner and watched Vanessa enter the apartment and turn toward him.

Chuck was startled to see her and it was clear all over his face this act was unexpected, even for a man who expected the unexpected.

Vanessa said nothing, did nothing. She simply stood there, looking at him, as if waiting for him to make the first move. Normally Chuck would have that move already underway, but this brazen attempt on her part left him temporarily immobile.

Just as he opened his mouth Vanessa walked toward him and for the second time that day placed her hand on someone's lips and prevented speech. With Chuck unable to speak, unwilling to speak, Vanessa took hold of the opportunity and moved in. She grabbed his pink, silk tie in one hand and pulled him close, her other hand moving from his mouth to the back of his head. Her fingers played with his newly relaxed hair, twirling the loose ends playfully as both her lips and eyes smiled up at him.

Vanessa's tongue slowly, seductively, moved across her bottom lip. The cherry lip balm made no move, somehow stained to her skin, but it did not matter for that was not her intent. She was simply baiting him, waiting to see if he would do what she had wanted him to do for days now, for weeks, for what felt like ages. A random black curl fell in her face and Chuck, on instinct, brushed it away with his hand, tucking it gently behind her ear. Vanessa knew she had him. This was the moment, all she had to do was wait.

Suddenly the clock in the apartment rang out, signalling a new hour. Chuck turned his head away, breaking eye contact with Vanessa, as the sound momentarily distracted his senses. Vanessa silently sighed, realizing this was going to be something she would have to bring to fruition.

Pulling tighter on his tie and using her other hand to direct his head to hers, Vanessa forced she and Chuck mere inches from each other. Breath on breath, their hearts beating fast, but beating in sync. The hairs on the back of Vanessa's neck and on her arms began to rise as her body tingled with anticipation.

The moment was upon her.

Vanessa pressed her lips to Chuck's, slow, soft, at first. She could taste the scotch on him, no longer forced to crave imaginary drinks. Her tongue began to gently part his mouth open wider as she pressed her body into his. Suddenly his hands were on her, no longer a meagre prop, but an active participate caressing and even groping at her form. Still, somehow, as the act became more passionate, more heatedly aggressive, it was filled with admiration, as if this act were the equivalent to a bouquet of flowers in their universe.

Chuck's hands moved to her hair, pulling her back as their bodies went towards the wall. Hands on hands and flesh and hair. Hands constantly moving as their lips were constantly moving, it felt to Vanessa as if there were no boundaries between them. Even her clothes felt like a formality. At that thought she felt her own hands latch onto Chuck's belt and begin to remove it from its leather loop.

Chuck, in an instant, pushed her hands aside and gently pushed her away. For a second Vanessa thought it was over, that she had crossed a line she never knew existed, but before she could compose herself he was on her once more, lips to lips. The implication was clear. They could kiss, maybe should kiss, but nothing more. Vanessa did not mind, she hadn't wanted that anyway, she had just gotten carried away. It had been so long.

Just as she began to relax in his arms, just as time seemed to slip into nothingness, the familiar sound of the elevator doors opening broke Chuck's concentration and Vanessa's bliss. Quickly they parted and stood awkwardly in the kitchen as Eric breezed past their right side, seemingly not even noticing them before heading up the stairs to his room.

Once he was out of sight Vanessa broke out into a huge smile, her face flush from kissing, her hair a tousled mess. Chuck watched her grin and chuckle to herself and he too could not help but smile. Then just as suddenly as he showed his teeth he turned away from her.

"I can't do this," he said.

"I've heard that before," Vanessa remarked, thinking for a moment that he was making some kind of joke.

"I'm being serious," he said in his most serious voice.

Vanessa looked shocked, dazed, but then she straightened out both her body and face and tried to act as if it was an expected response to kissing her. She tried to hide her disappointment and tackle the subject with logic. Logic with a beating heart was harder than she thought.

"This is what you said you wanted," she returned. "I asked, I asked you on the phone and this is what you said."

"That was before I knew…" his voice trailed off. The look on his face was one of doubt and dread. Vanessa could see he was pitying her, or at least that's what it appeared to be from her confused vantage point. He was feeling bad for having put her in this precarious position. While the sympathy was noble in some twisted way it was certainly not enough.

"Before you knew I would take you up on the offer," Vanessa finished, finally understanding. "You thought I wouldn't want you. That because you fled, because of your father, I wouldn't want this. You convinced yourself of that, maybe, like Dan says, that we don't belong together."

That remark made Chuck's eyebrows rise, but Vanessa thankfully did not notice.

"You thought this was the best. What was it Chuck? That you didn't deserve me or that I didn't deserve you?" she asked.

Chuck provided no answer.

"I may no be saving you from toppling over a building edge or cutting back your indulgent scotch habit, but you know I would take care of you and I think that scares you. I think you look at me and it scares you. Maybe you and Blair do deserve each other. And not because of the status or the social circles you mutually run in. And not because you're just so damn cute together. But because after all this time, all these flirtations and talks and trips and moments, you're still a sheltered little boy who wants his mommy. Gossip Girl said Blair was acting like a wife, but something tells me it was a little more maternal and maybe that's what you need."

Vanessa, without malice or anger, walked back toward the elevator. It was as if what she said was the most logically truth in the world, even if it was not. Somehow she was able to keep her calm, her composure. Somehow she was able to stare Chuck Bass down.

Once she was gone Chuck retrieved himself a glass of scotch, along with the bottle, and retreated to his room. Once inside he opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out Vanessa's scarf. He spent the night tossing and turning with a bottle by his side and the scarf wrapped around his hands and grazing gently against his face. Chuck spent the night trying to dream away the day.

_New York City is full of so many interesting people, but even the most interesting can surprise you. Just what happened inside the walls of Chuck Bass's apartment is not entirely known. However, I can say the girl with a name was there and when she exited her lips were pink and plush. I may just be editorializing here or I may be preparing to say "I told you so." XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	22. A Sour Blend

_How often do the rich of the Upper East Side get dressed up and go to a gala charity event? More times than Page Six can cover. But how many times are Nate, Vanessa, Chuck and Blair all in attendance? Now that Chuck has turned Vanessa away, now that Blair is unsure of her next move, and now that Chuck knows Nate is back in the picture what will happen? Only time will tell, unless someone, or something, speeds up the dramatic process. Ah, I love a good drama. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Charity events are never few or far between in New York City. The streets of the Upper East Side are littered with those who care about emptying their wallets for a good cause. Or more accurately getting their pictures taken emptying their wallets for a good cause. Whether it be art or academically related, for children or the homeless, or perhaps for the cure to some newly sanctioned "it" disease, the rich come out in droves to fain support and smile pretty.

Vanessa hated it. Not the giving part, she loved that. Rich people should give back, morally and tangibly, to the community at large. She simply hated the strained looks on their faces when they did it. Sure she was probably generalizing, as there were a small few who did their part with grace and graciousness. Like Lily, or even Chuck and his mission to save that bar. Sometimes she could find goodness among the masses, but on most occasions Vanessa felt guilty and dirty just being in their presence.

However, Nate Archibald had insisted. They were becoming friends once more. After all the drama between herself, him, and Jenny there was little left to be said so the obvious choice had been to start over. Their fresh take on friendship left Vanessa wondering if she had cast her romantic feelings for him aside to quickly, but she ultimately knew her place with Nate was sharing pizza and jokes not dancing and kisses. They were working out well as friends too. He was less overtly protective than Dan and less eager to hear gossip than Jenny. And he was unlike Blair and Chuck. Somehow he had become a combination of all her friends. Somehow things between them were once again good.

Walking into the ornate, marble-clad lobby of the Waldorf Astoria Vanessa took in the sights and sounds around her, looking through the endless crowd for Nate. There were women in diamonds and pearls and mean clad in the finest Armani suits. Even though she was draped in a beautiful deep purple gown, with satin navy blue pumps, her hair bundled up in a messy cascade of curls, she still felt relatively out of place.

Spying Chuck Bass as the people parted, did nothing to quell her nerves.

He was dressed in a navy blue suit, a lighter blue shirt, and a deep purple tie. If someone did not know better it appeared they had coordinated their outfits before hand.

Vanessa could not help but smile at the sight of him, but she was sure to do so discreetly, without his notice. It was not a smile of comfort or happiness, but rather a smirk to the powers of the universe. Of course Chuck would be there. Of course she could not have a night of peace.

When Chuck's eyes connected with Vanessa's he turned away slightly, suddenly startled. It was an emotion, a state, he found himself in much too often when Vanessa Abrams was around. Not wanting to spark any reaction in her, he reengaged eye contact. From across the room they were staring at one another, in a dance of action and reaction, keeping eye contact as they moved about the room on opposite ends.

Each were too scared to move in closer, but just as Chuck began to find his nerve Nate moved into view and found his place beside Vanessa. They embraced and kissed one another on the cheek, before moving into the ballroom area where a photographic exhibit of the gorillas of Rwanda was on display. It was fitting. They were there to save animals, and Chuck felt like an animal, a man void of real emotion and purpose.

As he followed behind them, entering the exhibit, he closely watched their hands, wondering, waiting, for them to link to one another. But nothing happened. They simply stood next to one another, talking and laughing. Even from his vantage point behind them, he could see Vanessa was relaxing in place. She seemed more calm, more graceful, more easy hearted than the last time they spoke. Or the last time she spoke at him. That last time, only a few days before the charity event, had left Chuck in a state of uncertainty. A state he knew all too well.

Still, Chuck believed it better to cling to his past convictions, to continue his alliance with Dan and his push away from Vanessa than to let her in. Even as he thought that now, looking at her curves in that dress, watching the line of her neck, he couldn't help but remember what an amazing kisser she was.

Shaking his head, shaking the thought away, Chuck slipped sideways into the crowd before Vanessa caught glimpse of him again. Then he pushed his way out of the ballroom, out of the hotel, and onto the street. Just as he flagged down his ever faithful car, Blair Waldorf stepped into view.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked coyly, bringing Chuck's attention to her.

She was clad in black, her hair long and loose, chandelier earrings sparkling from beneath her curls.

"The atmosphere was stifling," he said.

"Well, your absence will surely help in that regard," Blair said snidely.

Chuck knew she was trying to elicit a response from him, a response unlike his usual cool and casual demeanour. He was not willing to give in.

"Have a good night," Chuck said as he walked toward his car.

"Can I?" Blair asked. "Can I have a good night?"

Chuck turned back, confused by the question. He did not understand it was a question that needed no answer.

It was difficult for Blair to see him, hard as she tried to ignore the agony. It was difficult to know that she was the one that turned him away. Yes, he had hurt her, again and again, but it was she who had refused his flowers. It was she who had refused him entrance. It was she who had refused forgiveness.

She had her reasons, valid, logical reasons. She had held her own against him time and again, but in his presence, with him looking as good as he did, it was hard to resist him.

"Blair, I'm…" he began, but she cut him off. She had a tendency of doing that.

"Please don't say it again," Blair said as he moved toward her. "I've heard it enough from you."

Chuck wondered, listening to the tone in her voice, what exactly Dan Humphrey had told her that day in front of the New York Public library. He wondered if his plan was any plan at all.

As if on cue Blair responded, "Someone told me not to give up on you."

Chuck was taken aback.

"He told me…"

"He?" Chuck questioned, cutting her off. He was sure he knew who Blair was referring to, but Chuck liked to play all the angles.

"Yes, he," she restated. "He told me that, but I didn't believe him. I thought when you came back things would be different, but I may have been wrong."

"Everything is different," Chuck said soundly.

Blair looked down to her shoes, aware of the stupidity of her previous statement. Of course things were different. They just weren't the kind of differences Blair was hoping for. She decided to leave it at that, to head inside before more was said and done that could not be taken back.

As she headed for the entrance Chuck watched her walk away and his heart sank. He was simply feeling too much, loving too many. Blair or Vanessa was a question he was tired of asking himself and he figured Blair was the easiest answer. She was intelligent, beautiful, caring, biting, witty, and above all else she loved him. Did Vanessa love him? Probably not. Maybe she could, in time. But Bart's death had shown Chuck that there was no certainty on how much time any one person had left.

Blair or Vanessa?

Chuck quickly followed after Blair, sure of what he was going to do, going to say. He was ready to reveal the feelings he had long hidden. He reached out and grabbed for her hand, but instead he caught her handbag, a bejeweled, silver slender contraption that actually pierced his skin. Tiny slivers of pain shot through his fingers and he dropped the object as Blair whirled around to see him eye to eye.

Chuck's hand was fine, he was simply a victim of great fashion. Shaking his arm, squeezing his hand, to alleviate the moderate pain that was fading away second by second, he knelt down to retrieve her things.

Blair chuckled. For the second time in only a few days there was a man picking up after her, taking care of her, trying to hold on to her. Even if one of them was from Brooklyn it still felt great.

The handbag had broken open and there was a compact, lip gloss, and a cell phone only a foot or two away. Chuck picked them up one by one. The cell phone was flipped open and Chuck feared he had broken it. Silently, quickly, trying not to arouse Blair's suspicion he grabbed the phone and examined it for cracks or dents. In their lives the cell phone was a matter of life or death and Chuck certainly did not want to be blamed for destroying hers. As he felt the face with his thumb, expecting to feel a crack under his skin, he accidentally hit a button and the screen flipped its view and lit up.

The contents of that screen changed everything.

Chuck stood back up and handed Blair her belongings, the bag, the compact, the lip gloss, and the still open cell phone, all in one jumbled bundle and then abruptly headed to his car. God, how he wanted a drink, a good, sour, yet savory scotch. God, how he wanted what he could not have.

As she watched him leave, curious, but somehow relieved they did not mark the occasion with another confrontation she stuffed her things back into the handbag. Just as she was about to flip her phone closed Blair's eyes grew wide with dread. There on the screen was a recent text message she had received. A text she should have deleted, a text she knew better to not even read let alone respond to. A text from Jack Bass.

Blair knew everything was different now.

Vanessa felt her phone vibrate through the thin fabric of her handbag and discreetly excused herself from Nate's side. She hated to admit it, but more and more she was relying on the gossip that surrounded her to help her figure out her next move. It was pathetic she knew, but it was also comforting to believe that Chuck could not act without an audience. It was comforting to believe she was never that far from him.

Flipping open her cell phone Vanessa was suddenly confronted with a picture on the Gossip Girl site. It was a picture of Blair and Chuck standing outside the Waldorf, standing just a hundred or so feet from where she was standing that very moment. Blair looked amazing and jealousy reared its green head within Vanessa. Chuck looked, well he looked as he has just a moment before, but this time he was reaching out, reaching for her. This time he was making a move.

The caption read: _Change is coming_.


	23. A Sweet Blend

_Spotted. Chuck Bass and Queen B. getting personal on the streets of New York City. It isn't known what was said, but whatever it was it had both parties running. Not literally, but walking fast to their respective awaiting cars. What ever could it be? What ever could have happened? Don't worry kiddies, I'm getting to the bottom of this mystery, but there are so many more still left open and unanswered. Why oh why can nothing be simple? Then again, who wants it to be? XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Vanessa awoke, still wearing her dress, hair now messy on one side and matted on the other. Her make up, dark black liner, was smudged under her eyes yet somehow it made her face more interesting, more intriguing. She crawled out of bed, or out of chair, and then fumbled through the dark toward the light switch.

She was staying at her old place, staying in the empty loft in Brooklyn, still without family and totally without the Humphreys. After her conversation with Dan Vanessa had wanted to be alone. She thought she knew why he was so worried, why he was warning her to stay away. Chuck Bass had a bad track record and Dan, her best friend, was only trying to protect her. It was noble and welcomed, but sometimes it was nice to not hear the voices of anyone at all.

As she tried to adjust her eyes to the dark, flashes of that picture, of Chuck and Blair together, made her stagger and sweat. The image could not be erased from her mind.

As Vanessa walked slowly through the loft she hit her foot on her own navy blue heels and handbag, nearly falling to the hardwood. She caught herself on the wall, her breath heavy, her heart beating fast. She loved the night, but there were times she hated the dark.

Finally, Vanessa's hand found the light switch to the entranceway and she flicked it on. The noise was still booming through the loft, the noise of someone knocking loudly on the door. Vanessa placed her face, her eye, to the look-hole and then sighed reluctantly before opening the door.

"Took you long enough," Blair Waldorf said before pushing her way past Vanessa and into the loft.

"Please, come in," Vanessa said sarcastically before searching the hallway to make sure Blair was alone. Then she closed the door tight and replaced all the chains and locks to their original location. In New York City one can never be too safe.

Blair warmed herself in the loft, rubbing her own arms, holding herself tight. Her cheeks were flushed red, but Vanessa wondered if it was due to the biting weather or if she had been crying.

"Do you want some tea or hot chocolate?" Vanessa asked making her was to the kitchen area.

"Hot chocolate?" Blair said, sounding more like a question, more like a child. Chocolate was such a comfort, such a warming influence in times of cold. And Blair felt cold, alone, standing in the empty loft.

"How did you know where I lived?" Vanessa asked as she heated the water and filled the mugs with powder and marshmallows. She couldn't believe she was preparing to serve Blair in her apartment. Everything felt so surreal, yet after the last few months, surreal was almost becoming normal.

Blair eyed the space. "I wouldn't say you live here. It looks like a squat house."

"Despite that lovely observation, yes I do live here."

"All alone?" Blair asked.

Vanessa paused for a moment. Getting personal with Blair was always awkward, always a risk, but she felt she had no other choice. "All alone."

Blair, feeling the natural warmth of being indoors, took of her long, black satin coat and laid it over the length of the only chair in the loft. "I asked Humphrey."

"Dan?" Vanessa said startled and confused.

"He's no Fort Knox, that's for sure."

"No kidding. I guess I'll have to have a talk with him," Vanessa said as she passed a now completed mug of hot chocolate to Blair.

"He didn't tell me to hurt you or invade your privacy," Blair began. She hesitated slightly before finishing her statement, "He's a good friend…to you. To you, he's a good guy."

Vanessa nodded in agreement, although she still did not understand why Blair was in her presence, in her loft.

"I suppose you are wondering why I'm here," Blair offered quietly.

"No, no. I love uninvited guests at two a.m."

Both girls smiled at the comment.

"I have a problem I think you can help me with," Blair said.

Vanessa's head spun. The last time Blair had a problem it was Chuck. The last time they spoke it went badly. Vanessa could not, would not, get involved again. She and Chuck were over. He didn't want her, she thought he had never wanted her, he had pushed her away. No matter how much Vanessa wanted it to not be true, it was, at least in her eyes. An alliance with Blair, another truce, could not change that. In fact, another truce might permanently pull Vanessa and Chuck apart.

"I don't think I can help," Vanessa started. "I just don't think that would be a good idea."

"Of course it wouldn't be a good idea," Blair retorted. "Yet, here I am."

"Yet here you are."

Blair took her cell phone from her handbag; it was still cold from having been lying on the sidewalk outside the hotel. Blair held it tight for a moment; held on to the secret it contained, but she knew she had to let it go, let it all go. Blair passed the cell phone to Vanessa who accepted it with confusion written on her face.

"Why are you giving me this?" Vanessa asked as she took the phone and looked at it.

"This is hard for me…" Blair began, but her voice trailed off, her thoughts stopped short of completion.

It was hard for her, hard to open herself up to anyone, let alone Vanessa. She wondered, for only a moment, if showing Vanessa the evidence of her own mistakes would make her feel sorry, feel empathy. She wondered if the pity card was a card worth playing.

Could she use her past to cement her future?

If Vanessa knew the pain that existed between herself and Chuck, if Vanessa knew that that pain could disappear, if Vanessa knew that mistakes and mishaps had taken place, but that real love was there, Blair wondered would she help? Would she turn back, turn away?

Would Blair have to expose herself, her weaknesses, her fears, in order to get Chuck back? Was Chuck even worth it?

Suddenly, fluidly, Blair snatched back her cell phone, tearing it from Vanessa's hand. She held it tight, as if the object would suddenly fly from her grasp once again. Blair could be open, but she knew it wasn't to be with Vanessa.

"Where's Serena?" Vanessa asked, cutting the silence with her voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Serena, tall, blonde, usually attached at the hip," Vanessa said taking a sip of hot chocolate. She winced in pain as the liquid burned her tongue a little.

"Yes, I know Serena. Attached at the hip is an overstatement. She's busy tonight," Blair stated, putting the cell phone back into her handbag.

"Well then, I think I'm going to regret asking here, but what's on the cell?" Vanessa started. "I mean, why did you come here in the middle of the night, in that…" she pointed to Blair's clingy, black dress, "it couldn't be to show me a cell phone."

"Chuck and I had a fight," Blair said.

"Welcome to the club," Vanessa stated somberly.

"Please, I've been in the club longer than you have. I'm president of the club, ok?"

"Ok, ok."

"This fight was different. It was barely even a fight at all. He was silent. Dead silent. He just gave me that look."

"Brows furrowed, mouth crocked, "I know who you are" glare kinda look?" Vanessa offered, having seen the look before.

"Yes, except the look wasn't pre-empted by anything or followed by anything. He just walked away." Blair's head hung low as she stood across the room thinking of that look and his leaving.

"Why are you telling me this?" Vanessa asked, blowing on her hot chocolate.

Blair shook her head. Why was she telling Vanessa all this? Why had she gone to Brooklyn in the middle of the night? Why did she feel like this was the only way?

"I guess I'm telling you…because I want you to stay away from Chuck," Blair said.

Vanessa opened her mouth to rebut, but Blair prevented it.

"Before you say anything I want you to know that I understand. I get the attraction to him, obviously I do. But there is something between Chuck and I that can't be broken and the more you're around, the more he has to think about you, the harder it is for us to be together."

"I'm not disputing your connection," Vanessa blurted out.

"You're not?"

"No. I have eyes Blair. I understand it all too," she began, "but you came her to show me something. You gave me that cell phone for a reason. So if you want me to stay away from Chuck I think it's only fair that you spill the secrets you certainly don't want to hold on to anymore."

Blair sighed heavily, loudly. "It was a mistake. I was going to show you something, tell you something, but I'm not now."

"Well, then I guess we are at a standstill once again."

Vanessa stood up, her dress crinkled, wrinkled, and her eyes low with sleep. She walked to the door and began undoing the myriad of locks in order to escort Blair Waldorf out.

"Wait," Blair said, but Vanessa ignored her, still fiddling with the door. "It was Jack."

Vanessa turned to face her and Blair suddenly felt so small, so vulnerable, so low.

"Jack Bass?"

"Yes," Blair said. She couldn't believe she was telling this to Vanessa, couldn't believe that of all the people in the world she was confiding in her.

"I don't understand Blair." Vanessa stated strongly, walking toward her, head held high. "You…you just don't make any sense. None of this makes sense. This world, you people, are just too much."

"Don't pretend you don't know the people, because for all the money and status people like me are just like people like you. Except better clothed and with a greater vocabulary," Blair said as Vanessa rolled her eyes in contempt. "You were out with an Archibald tonight, in a fancy dress, with jewels around your neck. No matter the price of all that you were still there and I bet you were still trying to fit in. So don't look your nose down at me, don't, not for one second."

Vanessa was silent for a moment. She hated arguing with Blair. Even if Blair was wrong, which in this instant she did not seem to be, there was a challenge in verbally fighting her. Sometimes it felt as if they were saying the same thing as before, just in a new way, a new approach to cattiness. Vanessa knew she wasn't nearly as sly as Blair, nor was she equally gifted at the art of verbal and mental manipulation, and therefore had no chance of winning any of their arguments. Yet, in the loft, in that instant, Vanessa did not feel manipulated. She felt uneasy, yes, but not manipulated. Blair was simply being honest.

"Fine," Vanessa relented. "Tell me."

"Tell you?"

"Yeah. 'It was Jack'. What about him?"

Blair swallowed hard. "You know, I think I should just let this be, don't you?"

Vanessa felt her body tighten, her heart clench. She hated this state of limbo. Not knowing what was going on, not knowing how to handle herself or how to proceed. Maybe she shouldn't believe herself and her world to be better than Blair and hers, but somehow her world, even when Chuck inhabited it, felt a whole lot less confusing than Blair's.

"That was it?" Vanessa asked. "That was why you came here? To tell me things you can't really tell me and to warn me to stay away from Chuck? Either you really need a friend or…." Vanessa stopped herself. She wasn't sure what the end to that sentence was.

"Or I really need a friend," Blair repeated sheepishly.

Vanessa smiled knowingly. "Yale's not going anywhere."

"How did you know…"

"Like you said, he's no Fort Knox."

Blair sat down in the only chair, her satin coat wrinkling beneath her.

"Things are just so…"

"Crazy?" Vanessa offered.

"Out of control."

"Different."

"Yeah, and not the good kind of different."

"No, not that kind," Vanessa agreed. "But, as terrible as I'm sure this will sound, things do get better. Sometimes."

"It's the sometimes part I'm worried about."

"Do you think that if you have Chuck with you all this other stuff will just fade away?"

"No," Blair said defiantly. "No, of course not, but maybe, maybe all this stuff will be better if…"

Blair trailed off, but Vanessa understood. Things, the most terrible things, always seemed better with someone by her side.

"So you and Jack had a thing, so what? So you're waitlisted for Yale, so what?" Vanessa stated. "That has nothing to do with Chuck and no matter how much you want him to help it go away, or make it better, I think we both know he's not in a place to do that."

Vanessa wondered if she was right. Did they both know he was not in that place, or was he only not in that place for her? Was his connection with Blair stronger, able to survive more?

"I did nothing with Jack," Blair said, but it was not in a rushed or raised tone. She said it as if hurt by Vanessa's assumption, as if she knew that was Chuck's assumption as well.

"If you did nothing with Jack, then what's the big secret? What's with him and your cell phone?" Vanessa asked.

"I can't explain it, not now, and not to you," she returned.

Vanessa sighed. "You came to me remember?"

"I guess that was just another mistake."

Blair stood up and began putting on her coat. She was disappointed that nothing had been accomplished, no promises, not even a threat, had been made. Was she losing her touch? What was she even doing there? Did she need a friend? Serena was busy having some sort of quarter-life crisis, discovering who she was with and without Dan, while Dan was busy being Dan. Then again, Humphrey was not her friend, she was clear. Still, he gave great advice. Here she was, standing in front of Vanessa expecting the same thing; the comforts and understanding of Serena or the harsh yet truthful offerings of Dan. Perhaps she was getting both, but Blair couldn't tell. She was too tired to tell.

Vanessa opened a cupboard above the sink and pulled out a bottle of scotch. It was not the same bottle from her night in that loft with Chuck. That bottle was gone, as were a half dozen or so more. This was a sweet blend, a girl's scotch, something different yet the same. Something old yet unique. Something that would be perfect to offer to Blair, perhaps as a peace offering, Vanessa thought.

"Do you want a drink before you go? Help you ward off the cold?" Vanessa asked, but for her drinking was more useful in warding off thoughts and feelings. She held the bottle high so Blair could see it from her vantage point by the chair.

Vanessa wondered why she was being so nice to Blair, then she wondered if she was in fact being nice. She thought she was, but with Blair anything was possible. Her own senses were heightened around her, she felt more on guard. No matter, she was still offering her a drink, just as she had offered her Thai food a few weeks before. Why was she trying so hard? Maybe being enemies with Blair would do nothing to help her situation with Chuck? Vanessa hated thinking that. She had just resolved not to think that, she had resolved to hang out with Nate and focus on work and not dream about that kiss.

Vanessa opened the bottle and took a quick swig. She needed to suppress her thoughts and feelings fast.

"Please, I don't touch the stuff," Blair said, lying. She had had a few glasses here and there, mostly because she knew Chuck liked it, but what was the point now, he wasn't there.

"I'll show you out then," Vanessa said.

Still clutching the now open bottle in one hand, Vanessa led Blair to the door. She pried open each lock and then held the door open to let Blair out, but as it swung aside the hallway revealed Chuck Bass, standing alone, his hand in a fist ready to knock.

Chuck took in the sight. Blair, eyes smoldering, standing in her beautiful black dress, just barely covered by the coat that hung low off her bare shoulders, skin a glow in the dim light of the loft. Vanessa, hair a mess of sexy curls, holding a bottle of scotch, lips pert and pink. Chuck took in a sharp, deep breath as his heart began to pound and his head began to spin.

"Ladies," he said.

_Who would have imagined that Brooklyn would be the sight of the next big showdown between Chuck Bass, Queen B., and Lonely Boy's BFF? You know I hate to cross the river, but it might just be worth it for this. I hear when the doors are closed friendships are tested and sometimes people are made to choose. I say it's about damn time. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	24. A Drink Without Fun

_New York is welcoming the coming of spring and as the weather warms up, so too does the action around Chuck Bass. In fact, I think things are about to get very hot. First, sadly, before such heat can be produced there must always be a cold spell. But who will be left out to freeze? I have a hunch, but only time will tell. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

TWO WEEKS PRIOR

They both looked beautiful and they both looked extremely angry. Somehow one trait complimented the other; somehow one woman complimented the next. There they stood together like a picture from one of his dirty magazines, the kind he was too brazen to hide from roaming eyes. Vanessa's hair was unkempt, her eyes piercing, her lips plump and deliciously familiar. Blair's skin glowed, her cheeks freshly flushed, her body radiating warmth only he could see.

Chuck inhaled sharply as his mind went into overdrive. What was he to do next?

"I think its time we all had a little chat," he said snidely. Chuck knew his sarcasm and charm would have to mix and even overlap, if he was going to survive this encounter with his dignity and his manhood intact.

As he began to enter the loft both women put their hands up, their bodies blocking him access. "Who said you could come in?" Vanessa asked.

Chuck was stunned, but only for a moment, as both girls gave each other a knowing glance and quickly relented. He entered the apartment and heard the door close swiftly behind him.

"What do you want?" Vanessa said.

She was doing all the talking it seemed, making the accusations with the tone in her voice. It was such a role reversal, but under the circumstance Chuck could barely fault her. He had been confusing, intentionally so, and he had hurt them both. However, he suspected Blair was more accustomed to him hurting her and perhaps that was why she was staying so quiet.

"I…" Chuck began, but he could barely continue.

"I'm not sure I want to hear this," Vanessa said, but she was only addressing Blair who had taken up residence in the loft's lone chair. Blair only shrugged in return.

Vanessa sighed, she felt all alone.

PRESENT

It had been two weeks since Vanessa Abrams' ominous encounter with Chuck and Blair. Two weeks since she had tried to silence him, stop him from telling her what she already knew she was about to hear. Two weeks since she had tentatively rekindled her relationship with Nate Archibald and tried to put her romantic past behind her.

Things were rocky, to say the least. There was an argument with Jenny, over Nate of course, and some explosive revelations from Dan, something about a long lost sibling and student-teacher affairs. Dan and Serena had broken up? Rufus and Lily were together? Company ownership, stock, secret societies? What was going on?

Truth be told, Vanessa felt as if she was catching up to it all, as if she had been away for weeks, months even, and she was just now coming back into her own life. She felt as if being with Chuck Bass, caring for him, had left her in a fog that was just now clearing.

After work, Nate met her at the gallery and together they would get coffee or walk through Central Park or go see a movie. Suddenly everything felt so normal, so serene, so easy. Vanessa was oddly discomforted by it, perhaps because she had spent such a long time in a daze, or perhaps because she had spent too long trying to be Chuck's girlfriend. Vanessa was growing sympathetic for all Blair had to deal with.

Still, the subtle peace she found in her burgeoning relationship with Nate left something to be desired. Was she addicted to the chase? The hunt? Did she only love when love was rejected? Or did she only love Chuck Bass?

Such questions swirled in her head, confusing her thoughts night and day.

"Vanessa?" Nate said, cutting through her thick contemplation. "Did you hear what I just said?"

Vanessa looked up at him, her eyes large, almost sad. She feigned a smile. "Sorry. No, I didn't hear you."

TWO WEEKS PRIOR

"Well you are going to hear this, all of this," he said flatly. "I've spent a very long time trying to understand my feeling for you…both of you…and now I know what must be done. I have to remove myself from the equation."

Blair rose in her seat to protest, but Chuck cut her down with his words.

"It's time to give up, to let it go."

"Excuse me?" Vanessa said.

"It's time…" he began.

"No, I heard you. I think we both heard you. I just don't understand where this is coming from," she finished.

PRESENT

"I was just wondering what we're doing here," Nate said once again, only this time Vanessa was actually listening.

"We're having lunch," she said flatly.

Nate smiled, his teeth glistening, his cheeks almost forcing dimples to form. "Yes, I caught that part. I meant, what are we doing here?" As he said the word "we" he moved his hands between the two of them, waving them back and forth from himself to Vanessa.

She nodded in understanding. "Us?" she said, but it sounded like an open-ended question. "This is the conversation about us."

"I just thought…."

Vanessa interrupted. "It's time. I understand."

"…we have nothing in common."

"I'm ready," Vanessa let out under her breath, not truly realizing Nate had already begun his fateful list of the reasons why they would not work as a couple.

"You're…and I'm…." Nate shook his head. He wasn't sure how to do this. He had never had the talk with anyone but Blair and those talks ended in arguments or heated lip-locks. He wanted to do this for real.

"We're different," Vanessa said, somehow trying to complete Nate's thoughts, his objections.

"Yes!"

"So?"

Nate sat back in his chair, his eyes cast directly onto hers. He smiled again, this time it made her blush. Nate Archibald could be so endearing.

"So nothing," he finally said, his guard coming down, his doubt fading. "So nothing."

TWO WEEKS PRIOR

Chuck felt trapped, trapped by his words. He had come to Vanessa's to seek solace from his feelings for Blair. He had come to her to hash out his disgust over a possible fling between Jack and Blair. He had come to Vanessa because Vanessa had always made him feel better. Yet there he was, feeling small and impotent, feeling less than he had ever felt before. The feeling however, sparked within him his resolve to return to the old ways of Chuck Bass. The feelings made him want to strike back.

"I don't want to be with you," he suddenly said. It wasn't really directed at Vanessa, or Blair for that matter, but she was standing the closest, her eyes looking into his. Chuck could see the rejection wash across her and feel Blair smile behind them both. "I don't want to be with you either."

It was done now. They all knew.

"It's too hard," Chuck started again. "It's supposed to be fun. Sex. Scotch. The whole lot of it is meant to be fun."

He sighed loudly as Vanessa found a spot to lean against the counter, a spot to hold herself up and mask the movement of her shaky knees.

"It's not fun anymore."

"And who made it that way?" Blair suddenly said, he voice full and high and angry. "Mixed signals. Secrets. Game playing. Who has Humphrey in one pocket and his own sad story in another? It was never supposed to be fun because you never intended it to be."

Chuck wondered how she knew about Dam Humphrey. He knew that Brooklynite had come off too strong. He knew Blair would smell his lies. The truth was, they weren't really Dan's lies, but his own. Just another flaw in a long list of flaws, all self-induced and all inflicted on Blair and Vanessa.

Vanessa felt herself leave the situation, trying to make her mind think of something, anything else. Suddenly, she wasn't listening again.

PRESENT

As Vanessa left Nate behind in the café, her lunch barely eaten, she wondered why Nate had suddenly questioned their pairing. Yes, things had happened suddenly. It had only been two weeks since they started up their friendship again, moving quickly into dating territory once more. She had wanted it that way, trying to cleanse her palate, trying to erase all past images and tastes of Chuck. Vanessa had wanted to be with Nate, had wanted to make things work, but she never stopped to consider whether he wanted it as well. Did Nate think things were moving too fast? Or was it something else all together? Perhaps they were simply too different.

She and Chuck had been different; different pasts, different childhoods, different values and ideals. However, it was those differences that helped solidify their intense attraction. Their differences were the things that made them separate from his coupling with Blair.

She walked toward the subway, hoping to catch a ride to Brooklyn so she could visit Dan. She needed to spend more time there. She felt she had abandoned them all during her visit to Chuck's world. She also wanted to talk to Jenny, wanted to fix whatever fractures were beginning to show again due to Nate.

Vanessa sorely needed a friend.

"Can I come in?" Vanessa asked, standing in the hallway outside the Humphrey loft. She nervously bit her bottom lip, something she never did, but the scowl on Jenny's face prompted nervousness.

"Yeah," Jenny pulled the large wooden door to the side and then slid it close as Vanessa entered. She slugged back to her place on the couch, back to her schoolbooks, back to real life.

"Are you still mad at me?" Vanessa abruptly asked before sitting down next to her.

Jenny thought for a moment. "No." She shook her head and gave Vanessa a half smile, as if trying to affirm it.

"Are you sure?"

"No, but I think we've spent too much time these last few months being mad at each other. I think it's time we stopped," Jenny said resolutely.

Vanessa felt her heart sink; her face suddenly went pale.

"What?" Jenny asked. "What did I say?"

"Nothing. It's just…well what you said reminded me of something someone else said to me not too long ago."

"Chuck?" Jenny asked.

Vanessa looked at her, shocked.

"Oh come on, it's written all over your face," Jenny told her. "Besides, you were all about Chuck for a while and now suddenly you're all about Nate. Again."

"God. That makes me sound so terrible," Vanessa said, letting herself sink into the couch, hoping the fabric would swallow her whole.

"I didn't mean it that way…"

"It's okay," she told her. "I know what you meant and you're right. No wonder Nate is having doubts."

Jenny put her books down and slumped herself next to Vanessa. The pair leaned into the couch, put their feet up on the coffee table before them, and collectively sighed.

"At least you have prospects," Jenny let out.

"At least you aren't living a soap opera," Vanessa said.

Jenny laughed. "My arc finished months ago."

They both laughed. Vanessa wondered when was the last time she really laughed, the last time she felt at ease?

"So which one do you want?" Jenny suddenly asked.

"Now I'm really feeling déjà vu. Year old déjà vu."

"No, seriously. If you don't feel for Nate the way you feel for Chuck then it's not far to string him along."

"When did you get so smart," Vanessa asked.

Jenny sat up straight and turned back to Vanessa, giving her words weight. "I've always been smart, but people don't always listen."

TWO WEEKS PRIOR

Vanessa snapped back to the situation.

What had begun as a conflict of interest, a conflict of the heart, had turned into a game where all three were about to be burned.

"Being in love, realizing that, isn't always fun," Blair finished, her tone lower, somehow sadder.

Vanessa sympathized and lowered her head in silent acceptance of the end, an end perhaps they all knew was coming.

"I just need to know a few things," Chuck said, too curious to let it lie.

"You need to know? I don't think you get to ask questions," Blair responded.

"Well I'm not the one sleeping with Jack," he stated soundly.

Vanessa's head shot back up, her eyes baring down on Blair. Of course, she now knew what was going on. Blair was vulnerable, conflicted, and perhaps remorseful. That's why she came knocking at her door at 2am. That's why they were all arguing in her loft, practically dragged down by sleep and suspicion.

"No, no, no," Blair began. "You've got it wrong."

"Then tell me what's right. Explain it to me."

"I was worried about you. I needed to help you. The only way I could do that was to put my trust in someone else. I didn't know he was a sleaze."

"And the texts," Chuck asked.

"They were just texts. Nothing sexual. If you had really read them you would have known that. Did I meet him for a drink a few times? Yes. Did I sleep with him? No. And that's all you're gonna get," she said, almost out of breath, her eyes welling up, her lips quivering.

She looked at him, so sad, so alone, but all Chuck could see were the lies. All Chuck understood were lies. So even if she was telling the truth, which both girls knew she was, it was a wash on her, Chuck could not believe it. He could not believe it just yet, because to believe would be to admit he was wrong.

"Then I guess the reason I won't get any answers is because you're a liar and not because I'm a…." Chuck was unsure how to finish that sentence. He was unsure of what to call himself.

"A cheat," Vanessa said quietly, her words piercing them all. "If she's a liar, then you're a cheat, and I'm…."

"Over," Blair said. She grabbed her coat and suddenly walked out of Vanessa's apartment, her heels clicking loudly, angrily on the hardwood. She never looked back.

Chuck and Vanessa stood silent, staring at one another.

"Is this what you want?"

PRESENT

"Is this what you want?" Nate asked, confused by the situation that was bubbling over beneath him. "I mean, really think about it. Is this what you want?"

"I have thought about it," she said moving her body closer to him, letting her hands rest on his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt, the beating of his heart. "I now this is what I want."

Her voice, her raspy whisper, filled the space around them and Nate suddenly found himself excited, intrigued. He was wanted again, and he couldn't help but give in to it. He had been yearning for such a feeling for so long. Nate Archibald needed to be held.

As if she could read his mind, her arms wrapped themselves around him, pulling them both closer to one another. They draped themselves up in a cocoon of limbs and hair.

She leaned up, her eyes so large, so deep, and brought her lips to his.

Before they kissed, Nate asked once more, "Are you sure?"

Instead of answering, she kissed him. It was soft, sweet, gentle. It was the kind of kiss Nate never thought she was capable of.

As they pulled their lips apart Nate whispered in her ear, "What's gotten into you?"

Blair only smiled and kissed him again.

_I told you things were going to heat up. Poor Vanessa. As soon as she gets a man Blair Waldorf come along to steal him away. Then again, I hear Nate wasn't doing any protesting. Could the golden couple be an item once more? Either way someone is about to get burned. Spring this year is going to be unseasonably warm. XOXO, Gossip Girl. _


	25. A Night Cap

_I've often said when the seasons change in NYC so do the attitudes of New Yorkers everywhere. It looks like the weather is getting to a batch of Upper East Siders. Schemes, games, and manipulation were all par for the course, but I've been told one of them, namely Chuck Bass, has vowed the game playing is over. If that's true then why is he gallivanting around town? And what of Queen B.? Did she quit the game too? I hope not. Games are never fun to play is the stakes are not high. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Gossip Girl was becoming a problem Vanessa Abrams could no longer ignore. She was always there, always watching, waiting, for the perfect story. She was always butting in, her little texts and bulletins breaking up otherwise normal, stable moments. Now was no exception.

Riding the subway back from the Humphrey loft, only a few blocks that she felt too tired to walk, Vanessa stared at her cell phone screen at the Gossip Girl alert that had popped up. According to the mystery stalker of New York, Blair Waldorf and Nate Archibald were caught in a lip-lock.

While Vanessa was hurt, she wasn't devastated, and that spoke volumes to her. Perhaps rushing into things with Nate while she still harbored feelings for Chuck was not the reasonable, or the sane, thing to do. Damn, she hated it when Jenny was right. But why did Chuck and Blair and now Nate get to do those things. Why was it ok for them to play with people's emotions, to play games? Why were they so good at it?

Vanessa felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Was it for her relationship with Nate? Or was it because she finally realized she would always be on the outside looking in?

Blair Waldorf returned home, tossing her deep red evening bag and her black coat onto the couch. Dorota would clean it up later. Blair briefly considered waking Dorota up so she would have someone to talk to, so she could expel her thoughts, her demons. But it was late, very late, and as much as she cared, perhaps even loved Dorota, she couldn't talk to her.

Blair reached into the purse that lay haphazardly on the couch and fished out her cell phone, but before she even flipped it open she returned it to its hiding place. There was no one to call.

She ascending the stairs and walked into her bedroom, the lights off, the room cast in shadow. Before she could begin to undo her dress, she felt movement around her, the shadows suddenly moving. But it had happened before, so she wasn't scared.

"Hello Chuck," she said as the light near her bed illuminated itself and Chuck Bass came into view. "Breaking and entering has become a habit of yours."

"If it helps, I'm not drunk," Chuck said sarcastically.

"It's a miracle," Blair returned, smiling to him from over her shoulder. Her hands were still fidgeting with the zipper on her dress.

"Let me help you," Chuck said standing up and walking toward her.

Blair playfully turned away from him. "Oh no, I know what that leads to."

Chuck smiled at her, his eyes warming, piercing into hers and melting her guard.

"Alright," she relented. "But don't get any ideas."

Blair turned around once more, her back to him. He gently brushed her hair aside, letting the long, loose curls drape themselves over her left shoulder. Then he firmly grasped the stuck zipper and pried it from the tangled fabric, leading it all the way down her back. Suddenly her cool, glowing skin was revealed, her black, lace bra almost teasing him.

Before Chuck had time to move, to even think, Blair was walking away to her adjoining bathroom, her robe in hand.

Chuck let out a defeated sigh.

Blair stared at herself in the bathroom mirror as she slipped the dress off her shoulders and let it fall on the floor. What was happening? Why was he in her room? After the actions and words at Vanessa's apartment she and Chuck had not spoken, had not even seen one another and now he was sitting on her bed. She examined her face, her body, in the image across from her. She wondered if he would be able to tell that she had just spent time in Nate's arms.

"Are you planning on coming out of there?" she heard Chuck call though the door.

Blair resolved to tell him, to tell him about Nate. She was tired of all the lies.

When she opened the door she was clad in a soft blue silk robe, her figure still noticeably visible through the flimsy fabric. The lies may be over, but it was much more difficult to stop the game.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" Chuck said as she made her way to her vanity, removing the few bobby pins that held her bangs back.

Blair flipped her head over and ran her fingers through her long brown hair. Standing up right her curls fell softly around her. Chuck thought she might be baiting him.

"Don't give me that look," she suddenly said. "I'm not trying to reel you in."

Chuck couldn't help but smile, a real wide smile. Sometimes Blair knew him better, knew his thoughts better, than anyone else.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" he asked again, bringing himself back to the task at hand.

"Actually, there is," she said sullenly sitting in the chair adjacent to her vanity.

"Anything about you and Nate?" Chuck questioned.

Blair stopped, her eyes wide.

"After a make out you should always check your cell phone," he said slyly tossing her his phone.

Blair looked down to see and picture of herself and Nate Archibald holding one another, their lips pressed together tight. She took in a sharp inhale of breath, holding it for what seemed like hours, before finally relenting and tossing back the phone.

"I was going to tell you," she said calmly, too calmly.

"I know," Chuck told her. "But I wanted to see the look on your face when I showed you that."

Blair shot him a cold stare, but Chuck only smirked in response. Then he got up and headed to the door.

"That was it?" she asked, standing, perhaps preparing to rush after him.

"Yes."

"But I thought…" Blair let the sentence fall. She wasn't sure what to say or how to proceed.

"Like I said before, we're over Blair," Chuck told her before walking out of her room.

She could hear him walk down the steps, but eventually the sound drifted, faded out of range. Blair was left standing in her room, draped only in her bra, panties and a silk robe, body pert, mind numb. What had just happened?

Blair collected herself and sat on the bed occupying the space Chuck had just left. If they were over why was he still playing with her? Was it habit? Did their games never really end?

She couldn't help but smile to herself. As disturbing as it was, she got a thrill out of seeing Chuck in her bedroom once again, a jolt of excitement when he touched her, when they engaged in their usual sexual banter. She had missed him. She had missed him and sought comfort in the arms of Nate Archibald.

Was it her fault if Nate needed that same comfort? Was it her fault if he kissed her back?

Still, Blair hadn't anticipated the arrival of Gossip Girl spies. That was never part of her plan. She wanted comfort, but she wasn't sure she wanted Chuck to know, she wasn't sure she could use the comfort against him. He had hurt her, yes, but she still in spite of it all….loved him.

Blair gathered her flimsy robe before her and quickly ran to her large wall sized wardrobe pulling out another coat and fastening it over her nightclothes. Blair then ran out of her bedroom door and down the stairs. She wasn't sure where she was going or what she was going to do, but the urge to explain herself, the urge to continue talking to Chuck took her over. Blair just couldn't help herself.

"Going somewhere?"

Blair clutched at her chest in surprise and let out a small, but startled scream. As she whirled around she found Chuck sitting on the couch behind her.

"Damnit Chuck," she yelped. "What are you doing here?"

She was panting from the run and the scare.

"Where are you going?"

"I was going to…"

"To catch up with me?" Chuck asked, but it didn't sound like a question. It was a statement. He knew her all too well.

"No. I was thinking of giving Nate a night cap," Blair said, trying her hardest to sound sexy and flirtatious between bouts of catching her breath.

"I could use a night cap," he told her deviously.

"You had your chance," she retorted as she headed back toward the stairs.

"What about Nate?" Chuck asked as he followed her, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her.

Blair sighed. "I changed my mind."

As she preceded back up the stairs, Chuck said softly, "Why him?"

The room was so still, so silent, that even though Chuck spoke in a faint whisper Blair heard him as if his words were as loud as screams. She bowed her head for a moment, but the darkness surrounding them made it difficult for Chuck to pick up on her body language, to clearly see that she was feeling, perhaps guilty about her actions.

Why had Blair chosen Nate? Her life was spiraling out of control and Nate was warm and secure. She knew it was because he was familiar, he was safe, he would never intentionally hurt her. Even when they had fought, even during the rough patches of their relationship, Nate seemingly always cared for her. He had lied, yes, but they had all lied. But Nate never played games the way Chuck did, he never reveled in making others feel low. Nate was entirely different from Chuck, and in a way entirely different from her. Sometimes he seemed like a knight, and these days Blair needed to feel like a queen again.

"He's…" Blair began, but then stopped. "Why not?"

In the dark, her back turned to him, they stood together silently.

"And Vanessa?"

Blair felt a physical pain in her heart when Chuck mentioned her name; the dreaded other woman.

"Do you think it's fair to take another man away from her?"

Blair faced him and slowly, deliberately made her way toward him. Standing one step up so they could look each other in the eye she said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you never said no. In fact, you're the one who kept coming back to me. I wonder why that is?"

"You know why that is," he told her, the warmth of his breath lightly grazing the smooth skin of her face.

"I thought you said we were over?" she said leaning in toward him.

"You're becoming a different person Blair. After getting rejected by Yale, teacher hazing…" as he began to list her recent faults and flounders Blair turned away, scoffing. Her hair flipped to the side, nearly whipping Chuck in the face. "…turning away from me and Serena and…"

"You turned first," Blair said. "Where were you when I needed you? You were with Vanessa, swallowed up by all your grief, your selfishness. You were too busy to be with me or to trust me? What happened to calling me a liar? At least Nate trusts me. Nate's not too busy for me."

"But he's taken."

"And so were you. But that's never stopped a man before," Blair told him. "I think our fathers taught us that."

Blair began ascending the steps again, but Chuck caught her arm. His hand wrapped around her coat. As they stood in the dark, only illuminated by the moonlight peaking through the living room's tall, wide windows, Chuck's hand moved from her arm, sliding his fingers down to her hand. For only a moment his fingers caught on hers before he let his hand move back up, this time under the cuff of her coat. Skin on skin. Chuck could feel the heat coming off her body; he could feel the tiny white hairs on her arm rise to attention as the softness of his fingers moved across them. Suddenly, he found himself drawing small circles on her skin with his thumb, pressing lightly and pulling her closer.

Blair slowly moved toward him, stepping down one step, finding herself staring up at Chuck as his hand moved as far as it could up her coat, gripping her arm. Blair felt uncomfortable, the fabric of her sleeve now bunched at her elbow, as Chuck seemingly tried to wear the coat with her. Still, even in discomfort he gave her chills, the good kind, the kind that made her move her head back, exposing her beautiful neck to the moonlight, and moan softly through breathy sighs.

As Chuck heard her moan he felt his own grip on her arm tighten, he felt himself puller her closer, closer, almost forcefully so. Suddenly, they were only inches apart, the fabric of the coat touching his chest. She brought her head back down and looked into his eyes. They way her lashes brushed against her soft skin was the equivalent to her licking her lips in anticipation. Either way Chuck felt himself grow more excited. He wanted her so badly.

Just as Chuck felt himself losing control, losing all resolve to stay away, to stay friends, or to stay enemies, Blair wretched her arm from his grip.

"You do this. You always do this," she whispered into the space between them. "You always pull me back in."

"Me?" Chuck questioned feeling his lonely hand drop to his side. "I think you're the one with the strings."

"Strings you keep pulling on," she said adamantly. "I mean, why did you even come here?"

Chuck thought for a moment, not sure if he should admit the truth. Somehow the truth felt fitting given that Blair was being open about her and Nate, that she wasn't hiding it or hiding her intentions. The truth was he had come to prove to himself that she had changed, that he had been right to say things were over. Yet, he had to admit he had also come to see her, to just look at her. No matter what he could never help but stare at Blair Waldorf. Before he could answer though he realized Blair was nearly at the top of the stairs looking down at him, making him feel so low.

"You came here to catch me in a lie or to make me feel guilty about Nate," she said from her position above him. "You came here to play with me and I'm not playing anymore."

With that Blair headed back toward her room, letting the coat and the robe slip off her body, revealing one last tantalizing look of her silky back in the moonlight.

Chuck sighed in frustration. Neither was done with games.

Vanessa found herself sitting on a bench near the entrance to Central Park, directly across from the Waldorf Astoria luxury hotel. She watched the rich and fabulous enter and exit, wondering to herself where these people were coming from or going to at such a late hour. She made up identities for them, gave them fake accents in her mind, critiqued their clothes, and laughed to herself when one nearly tripped due to the unnecessarily long train on her dress. Sitting alone in the midst of the city at night, Vanessa felt oddly at ease. Perhaps she was meant to be alone.

"Why people watch when you can do?" the voice said from behind her.

Vanessa knew immediately who it was.

"Do you always skulk around in the dark?" Vanessa asked, not turning back to address her new found guest.

"I wouldn't call it skulking," Chuck Bass said as he sat on the bench next to her.

As he did Vanessa stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked, seemingly surprised that she was unhappy to see him.

Vanessa did not answer, she only lowered her head and walked off into the crowds of the cross streets, then she disappeared into the night.

"What did you expect?" Eric asked from his perch at the corner of Chuck's bed. He was unassumingly flipping thorough one of Chuck's many pornographic magazines, pulling out the inserts and taking in the forms. He seemed confused by the images.

"Aren't you of the other persuasion?" Chuck asked snatching the magazine away and tossing it onto a table that sat at the opposite corner of the room. He then proceeded to shed himself of his suit coat and tie.

"I like to look," he said, causing Chuck to raise his eyebrow suspiciously at him. "Hey, just because I'm curious doesn't mean I'm going to touch. I, unlike you, have restraint. I have a type. The kind without boobs."

"I don't like all girls," Chuck said. "Or all women I should say."

"No, just the ones who are breathing," Eric returned, smiling wide at his own joke.

Chuck only slumped down in his desk chair and stared once more at him.

"Well, what do you want me to say? I thought you decided not to date either of them?"

"Who said I wanted to date them?"

"And you wonder why they're not jumping into your arms," Eric said as he got up and walked back to the table where the magazine was. He picked it up and tossed it into Chuck's lap. "At this point you'd have better luck with one of those girls then Blair or Vanessa."

Eric then exited the room; Chuck was quick on his heels. He hated being upstaged, even when no one else was around to see it.

"Were you always this sarcastic?" Chuck asked as he followed Eric down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"I wasn't being sarcastic," Eric said.

"Sarcastic about what?" Serena asked as she entered the kitchen obviously having come from a night out. She laid her sequenced evening bag on the counter and proceeded to rummage through the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

Chuck could not help but stare as Serena's dress rode up slightly on her thighs as she bent over into the fridge. What was happening to him, he wondered, just as Eric's voice broke his concentration.

"I don't think so," Eric said motioning from Chuck to Serena's backside. They both shared a small laugh.

"So what's going on?" Serena asked once she had gotten her bottle of water and taken her first sip.

"Nothing really…."

Eric cut him off. "Chuck is still aching for Blair, or is it Vanessa, or is it both of them?"

"It's no one's business," Chuck said sternly before heading back upstairs.

"You should be careful Chuck," Serena called after him. "I think there's enough collateral damage there to last a lifetime."

"What exactly does that mean?" he asked her.

"I just think no one else should get hurt," Serena said softly brushing by him and making her way to her own room.

"Unbelievable," Chuck said to himself. "Everyone has a damn opinion about my life."

As Eric passed him on his way to his own room he said, "Well, maybe if you kept yourself off the blog-sphere people would keep their opinions to themselves."

With that Chuck hurried to his room and rummaged though the pockets of his suit jacket for his cell phone. There on the screen was an alert from Gossip Girl.

It read: _Chuck Bass has two ladies in one night. Oh my!_

Eric, standing at Chuck's door, couldn't help but grin. Chuck had put himself in that situation; he had put himself in a position to be judged. Eric knew these women did not deserve to be treated that way, did not deserve to spend their days wondering how Chuck felt, trying to forget him, only to have him invade their lives once more. He knew a little reputation smearing by Gossip Girl was completely warranted, he just couldn't understand why it seemingly bothered Chuck so much.

Chuck's face went flush and he sighed heavily, "Great. Just great."

Eric could not help himself. "Wait until you see the pictures."


	26. A Thermos

_Pictures are my bread and butter and none are more bountiful than those that show our favorite Upper East Side schemer Chuck Bass being delivered a crushing blow. Is it wrong to revel in the misery of others? If so this site would not exist. I mean, what's better than seeing a girl, a Brooklyn girl at that, leaving poor Chuck alone on a bench sad and confused? Well, maybe a picture of them kissing, but only because that would send our Queen B. over the edge. What does Chuck have up his sleeve? And where do he and V. stand? By the looks of it very, very far apart. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"You didn't really love him," Jenny Humphrey said honestly, almost too honestly. "You liked him, yeah, but you two weren't meant to be."

"I like the way that sounds. I do. It makes this seem less painful, but it's really not," Vanessa said sadly. "The truth is he left me for Blair. He picked Blair Waldorf over me."

"Can you blame him?" Jenny asked.

Vanessa shot her a dirty, scornful look.

Vanessa and Jenny were sitting on a park bench near the Constance School, Jenny clad in her plaid uniform and white knee-highs, Vanessa wearing a frown. The snow was coming down heavier than usual for the end of winter. It seemed as if spring had come and gone in an instant.

"Thanks for all your help Jenny," she said mournfully.

"What? I mean, you and he weren't working out. Can you blame him for moving on?"

"I can when he did so without breaking up with me first. I can when the reason I found out about him and Blair is because of Gossip Girl!" Vanessa's voice grew ever louder causing passing citizens to glare her way.

"Point taken," Jenny conceded. "But I thought it was Chuck you wanted."

"Yeah, well that's over too."

"A picture tells a thousand words, right," Jenny said. "And that picture of you and Chuck on the bench. That's a good one."

"A good one?"

"Well, it does show the whole of the Upper East Side and Brooklyn that you're willing and capable of walking away from Chuck Bass. Just in case anyone thought otherwise," Jenny raised an eyebrow as she said the last part, signaling that the 'someone' she spoke of was her. Her and the entire Humphrey clan.

"Yes, I can leave him. He's not a bad addiction," she said. "He's just…just…"

"Chuck Bass," Jenny said soundly.

Together, both girls nodded their heads in agreement. There was just something about Chuck Bass.

"I have to go to class. Now that one Humphrey is in Yale I can't disappoint," Jenny joked, standing up and grabbing her school bag. The cold New York wind blew at her hair, the blond shag covering her dark eyes.

Vanessa pulled her own curls back and stood up to join Jenny on her walk to Constance.

"You don't have to walk me," she told her, putting her hand up to stop Vanessa.

"It's alright. I don't mind."

Jenny turned on her heels to face Vanessa, pushing her bangs back to look her friend in the eye. "I don't want to sound rude, but I don't think walking me to school is such a hot idea. Blair, Nate, Chuck. They could all be there and I think I've had my fill of appearing as a sidekick character on Gossip Girl."

Vanessa couldn't help but laugh a little at Jenny's comment. She couldn't fault Jenny for her caution and skepticism. Vanessa was unsure how she would react if she came face to face with a handholding Blair and Nate. Or what her body would do if she saw Chuck in the light of day once more. She couldn't even look at him the night before, instead walking away, leaving him behind. Jenny was crediting her with being full or resolve, of bravery, but Vanessa knew it was self-preservation. If she had looked at him, or spoken to him, Vanessa knew things would have gotten out of hand.

"Will we see you tonight for dinner?" Jenny asked Vanessa.

"I don't know," she responded. "I think maybe a Humphrey dinner might be too much."

"Nah. Good meat, great bread, maybe some wine if my dad's back is turned," Jenny teased.

"How about pasta?"

"I think I can arrange that," she told her. Jenny then tentatively weaved her way through traffic to the other side of the snow-covered street.

Vanessa watched her go; realizing Jenny had turned back and was shouting something to her. It took her a minute to hear over the sounds of the New York morning rush, but Jenny was yelling at her to "Smile!"

Vanessa did.

"Smile already," Eric told a sluggish Chuck Bass, who was lying in his bed, a scowl seemingly permanently painted on his face.

"I don't smile," Chuck told him.

"Well, then smirk," Eric responded. "It's been twenty-four hours. You haven't left this room. That's not like the Chuck Bass I know."

Chuck groaned as he pulled himself up off the pillows and then out of bed.

"I'm so proud," Eric told him mockingly. "No come downstairs for dinner."

"What are you my m-…." Chuck stopped before he finished his sentence, looking at Eric, silent, still.

Eric only smiled in response and nodded his head, a bow to him almost, as if recognizing what Chuck would have said if things had been different.

"I'll see you downstairs."

Chuck sighed heavily once Eric had gone and then sluggishly dragged himself to the shower in order to wash away a day's worth of self-remorse. Dinner with Lily and Eric and Serena sounded nice, well, perhaps not nice, but certainly calm. It sounded like something he could handle. Yet, Chuck wasn't interested in coping or handling, he was interested in doing.

Scrubbing away all the filth, all the shame, Chuck made a pact with himself to fix what he had done, to start over. He made a pact to take back his old, foolish words. He made a commitment to make things better.

Chuck had ruined things with Blair, but she now had Nate. Perhaps they were the golden couple, perhaps they were meant to be. But only for a moment. In the end, Blair and he would be together. Chuck knew it as soundly and truthfully as he knew his own name.

Vanessa, however, was another story. She had been a side plot in his struggles with his father, a character on the fringes who somehow, despite all the odds had thrust herself into his life and into the main story. She had become someone he had not expected to encounter, or to care for.

He had given up his chance with both women, he had told them "no", but now he was having second, third, and fourth thoughts.

The only way to ensure that everyone got what they wanted was to go back to Vanessa. The only way to ensure he wouldn't be alone while Blair and Nate had all the fun, was to convince Vanessa she was the one for him.

But was it real? Was she really the one?

Even a month after, Chuck could still taste her on his lips. While Blair might be his future, Vanessa certainly felt like a satisfying present. And a satisfying present might speed up the process to getting his future started.

"She's not here," Dan Humphrey told a waiting Chuck Bass who was standing in the hallway outside of his loft. He was clad in a suit, a dark, wool coat left open to reveal his red silk tie. Dan rolled his eyes at the sight. He knew what Chuck was up to.

"Well, she not at her home or the gallery," Chuck responded.

"I'm not her keeper and neither are you," Dan said as he stepped out into the hall with Chuck, so as to not arouse the suspicions of his dad or Jenny.

"What? I'm not invited in?" Chuck teased.

"I think our little arrangement is over," Dan said flatly.

"Why? Because Serena never came crawling back to you?" Chuck scoffed loudly.

"Keep it down alright," Dan told him.

"Don't want Papa Humphrey to hear?"

"No. I don't want Jenny to hear and then come out here and kick your ass for what you did to Vanessa."

Chuck smugly smiled. He then had to chuckle to himself. Apparently he did smile, when something called for it. "Does Little J know your part in all this?"

"I don't have a part in all this," Dan returned seriously. "I'll admit I wanted Serena, I wanted to feel connected to her again and I made some bad choices, but I had no idea you were planning to crush both their hearts. I thought I could keep Vanessa away from you if I brought Blair to you. But it turns out you're only satisfied if your on top of everyone."

"I do like it on top," Chuck snarled, "and I never heard Vanessa complaining."

Dan turned back to the door to ensure no one would interrupt them. "You never heard her because you weren't listening."

"No Humphrey, I never heard her because as much as she may appear to hate it, to hate me, she always comes back for more. Face it, I have something you'll never have."

"Alcoholism? Herpes? A superior sense of self not proven by any actual evidence?" Dan said. "Tell me Chuck, what is it that you have?"

"Two women."

"Well, I guess you've forgotten my romp in the costume closet with …."

"The teacher? Yes, I heard. And if it were someone else I might acknowledge the accomplishment, maybe even buy them a beer."

"But not for me?"

"No, not for you," Chuck told him.

"So you have nothing I don't or can't have," Dan said, resolute in his determination that those from the Upper East Side were not better than him and his Brooklyn family.

"Two women…"

"You said that."

"If only you'd let me finish," Chuck interjected. "Two women, one of whom is Vanessa Abrams, your childhood sweetheart. The other is Blair Waldorf, the symbol of the kind of women you'll never be able to get."

Dan rolled his eyes again and shook his head. "The fact that you think I want those things, those types of women proves you know nothing about me."

"I'm not trying to get to know you," he told him. "I'm trying to enlighten you to the luxuries of being me."

"Alright, well then tell me Chuck, if your life is so luxurious, so great, why is Blair with Nate and Vanessa is no where to be found?"

Chuck had no response for Dan. He wondered to himself, if things were more amazing with Chuck Bass, why was everyone leaving him? More accurately, why was he leaving everyone when he knew he was not meant to be alone? At least not now. Chuck could not reveal his concern or his doubt to Humphrey so her merely flicked his long, cashmere scarf around his neck and over his shoulder before walking away.

"Chuck Bass speechless!" Dan called after him. "Now that's a new one!"

Dan chuckled to himself, victory was his, as he turned back to the loft. Vanessa stood in the doorway, staring him down.

"What did he mean?"

Dan knew he had been caught. Vanessa had been hiding inside the Humphrey loft, having that delicious pasta dinner.

"What did he mean Dan? What was your part in all this?"

"I only wanted what was best for you V. I wanted you to be happy," he told her.

"It sounds like you wanted to be happy. It sounds like it had nothing at all to do with me."

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips at him, Dan knew such body language was a bad sign.

"Does it really matter now? I mean, he said "no" to you. He told you things were over. And now with Nate. I mean, God, Vanessa don't you think your time on that side of the river is over?"

"Who are you to make that decision for me?" She asked. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"I'm your best friend."

"So act like it."

"What do you think I've been doing for the past few months? Stealing files from private investigators, picking up the pieces after your attack, after your fall out with Chuck and his dad. Yes, I plotted with Chuck and there were meant to be fringe benefits it in for me, but all I wanted was for you to stay clear of him. I wanted to spare you the grief you're feeling now"

Vanessa only stood still, it all felt like a repeat of Chuck's outburst in her apartment only three weeks before. Somehow Vanessa was messing everything up. Somehow she was bringing everyone down with her.

"You decided you wanted to see it through. You wanted to be with him and you took the risk. Hell, V. I admire that about you, but you can't fault me for trying to protect you. It didn't work, granted, but it wasn't some devious Gossip Girl like plan to screw you."

"I guess no one wants to screw me anymore," Vanessa said shyly motioning to the empty space in the hallway that Chuck had occupied only moments before.

"Him? Of course he does. He's here looking for you isn't he?" Dan said. "And who wouldn't want a piece of you? Any man who would chose Blair Waldorf over Vanessa Abrams is crazy. He's just flat out crazy V."

She hung her head low, but Dan could tell there was a smile hiding behind her flush cheeks and mess of curly dark hair.

"Would you hate me if I told you I wanted him?" Vanessa asked without looking up to meet Dan's eyes.

There was silence for a moment, a minute, and Vanessa felt herself grow anxious and nervous and hot.

"I could never hate you."

She looked up and their eyes met, hers full of sadness, his full of understanding.

"If you want him, go. I've told you before to go for it and I've told you before to put on the brakes. The truth is, you aren't gonna listen to me or anyone else, so make the mistakes. If it's what you want, what you have to do, then go."

"And if it's not a mistake?" she asked.

Dan only shook his head and then brushed past her to go back inside.

"What makes you think this time will be different?" Jenny asked her, as she still stood in the hallway deep in thought.

Jenny was holding out Vanessa's coat, obviously having heard the entire conversation between her friend and her brother.

Vanessa looked at the coat and said, "Are you on my side about this?"

"No. But I'm not on Dan's either. I don't have a side," she said. "I just want to know what makes you think it will be different?"

"Because Blair is with Nate now. She's out of the picture."

"Blair will never be out of the picture," Jenny reminded her and Vanessa had to silently agree.

What would make this time different? Was she different? Was he?

"Honesty," Vanessa suddenly said. "Maybe if we're honest, maybe if I tell him how I feel about him, tell him that I'm falling for…."

Vanessa stopped herself once she saw the inquisitive look in Jenny's eyes. Was Vanessa actually falling for Chuck? Not just falling, but feeling love? No. No. No. But damn it was getting close.

"I'm gonna be honest with him. No more secrets, no more schemes, no more lies, no more back-stabbing. I'm just going to tell him how I feel and then see where we stand."

"Good plan," Jenny said passing Vanessa her coat.

Vanessa found herself running down the street away from the Humphrey loft, to the corner by the park that had become a familiar spot for her and Chuck. If he were anywhere near it would be there. It all felt so done, so overplayed. She had run to him so many times before, yet it hadn't ended the way it does in the movies. They hadn't made it to happy yet. Was she making a mistake?

If so, like Dan had said, it was hers to make.

Chuck Bass was standing in their spot, sipping something from a thermos, his shoulders hunched as if trying to use them to block the cold from his face.

"I thought it was spring," Vanessa said when she appeared before him, the look on Chuck's face unchanged; as if he knew she would come.

"Scotch?" he said, holding out the thermos.

"How civilized of you," she teased.

"What took you so long?"

"Oh no. You don't get to be all cute and sly with me," she told him seriously. "I think I've earned a little honesty."

"I think I've given it to you in spades."

"Then what are you doing here, what were you doing the other night on the bench? I thought we were over," she asked.

Staring at Vanessa Chuck felt instantly guilty. He was going to lie to her. He was going to try and apologize, try to convince her that they were meant to be. He was going to sacrifice her, again, for his own gain. Chuck felt the shower had done no good. He was still as dirty as he had been the day, the week, the month before.

The pact would never be fulfilled if he lied. Chuck had to be honest with her. She had asked for it after all.

"We were, but then Blair and Nate happened."

Vanessa suddenly realized Chuck hadn't come looking for her because he'd had a change of heart. He had come to her looking for an ally.

"I think we both know what needs to be done."

Vanessa only looked at him, her eyes a wash with disbelief.

"You want to be with me to make them jealous?" she asked incredulously.

"You make it sound garish."

"Isn't it?"

"You want honesty, this is it. I like you Vanessa, I like you a lot," he said, unconsciously licking his lips and taking in the memories of her taste, her smell, her touch. "I even like being with you, but maybe we weren't working because of Blair."

"And now she's not an issue," Vanessa tried to remind him.

"No. It's the natural order of things Vanessa. People like me end up with people like Blair."

"And people like me end up alone?" she asked.

"You end up with Nate," Chuck told her.

"That's a little ridiculous isn't it? Revolving couple doors."

"That's how it is up there," he said motioning to the Manhattan skyline.

"I wanted to tell you Chuck…I want to be honest about how I feel," she began.

"I understand. You and Nate are a better fit. And if we can pull this off we all get what we came here for."

Vanessa sighed. He was completely missing the point. She had come there for him. It had almost always been about Chuck. What was she to do now? Lie to him? All the lies were supposed to be over.

"So it's you and me?"

"You and me against everyone else," he said deviously. "You and me."

Vanessa couldn't help but feel something when he said those words, even if he meant them as a ploy to win another. Damnit, it was happening again. Jenny was wrong about her. Vanessa may never be able to leave Chuck in the past.

Chuck took another swig of his scotch, wondering if he was making the right decision. Could he pretend to be in love with Vanessa and not actually fall in love? Was Blair Waldorf worth all the trouble? Damnit, it was happening again. He was getting feelings and he knew this time they may last forever.

_Spotted: Chuck Bass and Brooklyn V. sharing an intimate chat on the wrong side of the river. There are only two reasons a man like Chuck Bass travels to the outer burrows and one of them is surely for a roll in the preverbal hay. So what was Chuck doing late at night, talking to the girl he swore he'd left behind? My guess is the past is no longer the past. Sometimes rekindling old flames give you the best kind of fire. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	27. A Trace of Alcohol

_I've recently heard some grumblings about a certain hookup between Chuck Bass and Brooklyn V. but can it be true? Are they the proverbial symbol of 'opposites attract' really attracting once more? I say, I hope so. Poor Queen B. hasn't had herself a good girl fight in quite some time. Keep on the lookout for them. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

His hand moved slowly up the outside of her leg, fingers gently kneading at the thin fabric of her black stockings, feeling goose bumps form over and over as his touch sent shivers throughout her form. His other hand, his left hand, found its grip on her lower back, pressing into her, forcing her to arch forward again and again, her body moving achingly closer and closer. Soon there would be no more room between them to fill.

They were sitting on chairs, two chairs opposite one another, facing inward, their legs intertwined, crossing over one another. The club was dark and smoky, blue and black light dancing seductively across their faces. As the shadows moved up and down, alternately, sporadically, he could faintly see her lick her lips, twirl her hair, thrust her head back and expose her beautiful, smooth neck.

The music swirled around them, bass and drum and synthesizer sounds floating above them, as if unable to penetrate their cocoon.

She spread her legs just slightly, just enough to let his hand slip between them to rub her inner thighs. As his palm pressing into her skin, heating her to the core, his fingers picked at the stockings, slowly ripping them open fiber by fiber. As he worked at her thighs, he watched her face, her mouth curling into a small, seductive smile. He was certain his actions were eliciting moans, but the music made them impossible to hear.

Pressing on her back once more she lurched forward, her lips only an inch away from his own. He could smell the tiny droplets of sweat that were forming around her hairline, matting her dark locks, and forcing her skin to glow. Moving his nose into her hair, he inhaled strongly, allowing the soft, smooth skin of his lips to brush along her jaw line, leaving unseen traces of alcohol on the surface of her body.

As he pulled back he let his lips, now tasting of scotch and sweat, to touch hers. It was gentle, almost sweet, and highly unusual given his increasing rough, feverish grasp on her thigh moving steadily upward.

"I think you can stop now," Vanessa Abrams whispered into his ear, her voice coming out in thick, breathless bursts.

Chuck Bass heard her, but he did not stop. Instead he let his lips travel to hers once more, his mouth already open, his tongue poised to invade, but Vanessa pulled back leaving him panting on his own.

"I said that's enough," Vanessa told him once more, shrewdly pulling away and clamping her legs closed hard.

"My hand?" Chuck said, and they both looked down to see it was still running the length of her upper thigh, now with nowhere left to go.

Vanessa opened her legs, grabbed it, and pushed it away.

"Why are we stopping?" he asked, moving back toward her to overcome the drowning sound of the music. "I was just getting started."

"Look around Chuck. We got what we came here for," she told him.

She was right. The club was suddenly filled with camera phones and eager, fake-ID holding, adolescent girls texting until their fingers cramped.

"Mmmm, was that the only goal?" Chuck questioned, his voice low, his nose pressing back into her silky hair. "I can think of a few more things…."

"Don't finish that sentence. Please," she said, once again backing away.

Chuck finally did as he was told, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig of his scotch.

"I think we should go," Vanessa said, letting her voice rise above the boom of the club. "We're done here."

She stood up, her mouth formed into a scowl, her arms crossed. Chuck only stared at her, never making any attempt to get up and join her. Vanessa knew what he was doing. He was baiting her, teaching her that their plan needed to be seen all the way through. Begrudgingly, Vanessa let her body relax and then leaned down, kissing Chuck gingerly on the cheek, rising back upright with a wide, yet fake smile on her lips.

"Can we go?" she asked, batting her eyelashes in an overly exaggerated move of sweetness and seduction.

Chuck only smirked at her response, then finished the last of his drink, before escorting her out.

"That was ridiculous," Vanessa said as they walked together down the street, weaving in and out of the human traffic that had come to party in the club. "No one is going to buy that."

"Are you kidding?" Chuck questioned, then he looked down at her legs. "I think there will be convincing enough pictures."

Vanessa looked down quickly noticing the growing tear in her stockings. She sighed loudly and shook her head, but Chuck caught a sly smile cross her lips and laughed aloud.

"I knew you loved it," Chuck said deviously, before letting his arm slide around her shoulders, pulling them together as they walked the streets of New York City. Vanessa did not protest.

She could not help but feel something, something sexual and primal and provocative when he touched her, whether in the bar or on the street. Whether Chuck was being sweet or seductive it seemed to have the same affect on her.

Their rouse had begun only a few days earlier, a pact made in a park in the middle of the night. They had agreed to form an alliance in order to make Blair Waldorf and Nate Archibald jealous. They had agreed to do anything. It was just her and him. Just _you and me_, Vanessa remembered.

However, Vanessa had not realized their scheme would go into effect so soon, and she had not realized it would feel so convincing.

"Those pictures are already up on Gossip Girl. I think we can expect a little late night inquiry. Two, I'm sure," Chuck told her, his arm still slung over her shoulder, his other hand thrust deep inside the pocket of his long, dark wool coat.

"Yeah," Vanessa said, not nearly as enthusiastically as Chuck would have liked.

"I say we walk to the park and then go our separate ways. You can be back home in time for a visit from Nate."

"That's if he even cares," she said sheepishly. The scheme was already getting to her.

"After seeing those pictures, trust me, he'll care." As Chuck spoke he let his hand grip at her shoulder, moving down, apparently in a crude attempt to grope her.

"I only do that for the camera," Vanessa joked, taking his hand in her own, refusing to let go.

As they reached one of the countless entrances to Central Park Chuck gently pulled his arm away from Vanessa, their fingers slowly releasing their grip on one another, now leaving their hands cold and alone. Vanessa stuffed hers in her coat pockets in a failed attempt to get the warmth back.

"So I'll see you later I'm sure," Chuck said casually. He gave Vanessa a lingering look, trying to once again see the tears in her stockings, to visually take in the outcome of all his labor, but she was covering her legs up with her long coat. Sighing in defeat Chuck turned from her and began to walk away.

"Or we could see each other now," Vanessa called after him. He turned back. "Why see each other tomorrow when we can see each other now?"

"I thought the point of this whole charade was to be available for when they came crawling back to us."

"And then what do we do?" Vanessa asked, pulling her coat around herself tighter and tighter, as if using it as armor against Chuck's words.

"I don't know what you're going to do, but I think I might…."

"I get it," Vanessa suddenly said, knowing the depths Chuck's mind could go to, knowing what that tone in his voice meant.

"Is someone having second thoughts?" he asked her, moving closer, finding himself cast directly in the moonlight.

"No," she said forcefully. "Not second thoughts. I just think this is stage one. Perhaps we should keep them guessing a little longer. Keep them waiting."

Vanessa was unsure if she was telling the truth or not. She was unsure how she truly wanted to proceed. After telling Jenny she wanted no more lies to come between herself and Chuck, all she had done was lie. Was she lying now? Probably. Vanessa let her head hang low, thinking to herself that she was becoming the worst part of a woman. She was letting manipulation manipulate her. She was letting her inner Blair out.

"So, shall we walk?" Chuck asked her, putting his arm out, leaving space for her to loop her own through his.

Vanessa looked up and complied.

They made their way around the park, not through it, staying within the glow of the streetlights and the moon. Their arms were linked together, Vanessa resting her body weight against his, her hair lightly blowing in his face. Chuck did not seem to mind.

"Should we do this again tomorrow?" Chuck suddenly asked, breaking the smooth silence of their midnight stroll.

Vanessa smiled and let a small laugh escape her lips.

"What?" Chuck questioned.

"Nothing. Sorry. It just sounds as if you're asking me out on a date," she told him.

"Oh no. I know better than that. I think I've tried the date thing with you in the past and it didn't end well."

"What?" Vanessa questioned. "We have never had a date."

"Think what you want, but I distinctly remember sharing a drink or two with you."

"I don't know what you've heard, but that's not a date."

"What was tonight?"

"Tonight was not a date either."

"Really? Drinks, touching, kissing. And now a long walk," he said almost surprised by his own gentlemanly actions. "If this is not a date I don't know what is."

"This is a trick," Vanessa told him. "And don't be too smug. A walk in the park preceded by heavy petting is not a noble move."

"Why? Because the walk is supposed to come first."

Vanessa laughed again, but this time she caught herself and stopped. Was she supposed to be laughing? It all did feel like a date, a great date, but it wasn't supposed to. Biting her bottom lip hard, trying to hold in the small bursts of happiness that seemed to spill from her mouth, Vanessa clenched Chuck's arm tighter in the cold and walked on through the city.

Chuck let his hand grab Vanessa's arm, keeping them in closer contact. They walked the width of the park together, passing couples who on the surface looked just like them. They passed them without anyone suspecting Chuck and Vanessa were not what they seemed.

Suddenly, in the distance Vanessa saw a familiar face. Dan Humphrey was walking directly toward them. For a moment Vanessa was unsure of what to do, her head swarming with conflicting thoughts and half-hearted action. She temporarily considered pulling Chuck over the half-wall made of stone and into the brush off the park, but she knew she was no match for him and his designer suit. There was no way Chuck would let that get dirty. Not that kind of dirty.

Chuck saw Dan as well, but his reaction was to stay the course. It was only a matter of time before their scheme would be out for all those who were not of the Gossip Girl set to see. Once Dan knew, it would be real in Vanessa's world.

Then they were all standing face to face to face.

"Vanessa."

"Dan."

"Chuck."

"Humphrey."

Vanessa jabbed Chuck swiftly in the side with her elbow, suddenly, horrifyingly realizing their arms were still linked together. She quickly tried to wretch free, but Chuck held her arm tightly, keeping his grip on her hidden from Dan's sight.

"So I see you two are together now," Dan said. "How…..nice."

"Jealous?" Chuck asked, trying to use his words to press beneath Dan's seemingly thick skin.

"Hardly," Dan responded flatly. As he looked up he could see Vanessa's face and immediately retracted his statement. "I mean, you know, not 'hardly' as in I wouldn't if we…because I would, but…."

Vanessa watched Dan trip over his own words, knowing he was mistaking the look on her face as one of hurt or sadness, when really it was one of annoyance at Chuck and his refusal to let her go. Fighting with him, struggling to get her arm free without arousing Dan's suspicion, she pulled and pulled while Dan talked and talked until Chuck grew bored of the scene and let her go. Vanessa felt her body lurch to the right, almost stumbling to the ground.

"Are you ok?" Dan asked, helping her correct her balance.

"Yes. Are you alright?" Chuck asked, his concern fake, his temperament glazed with sarcasm.

"I'm fine," she said coldly, staring Chuck down with her deep brown eyes.

"Well, I take it since you and Chuck are….whatever this is, you'll be joining us for breakfast tomorrow."

"Breakfast?" Vanessa asked, looking to Chuck who only shrugged in response.

"Um, Lily is having some breakfast get together. I don't know, I can't keep track of all the parties you Upper East Siders throw. I mean, when did breakfast become the happening meal?" Dan asked, rhetorically of course.

"Yes, because you would know the height of sophistication. Please, do tell me what the 'happening' meals are in Brooklyn," Chuck said, with a hint of cynicism.

Before Dan could respond Vanessa interjected. "Boys! I think that's enough talking for now."

"Yeah," Dan agreed. He leaned in and gave Vanessa a quick hug and a light kiss on the cheek before heading off away from them. He didn't leave, however, before giving Vanessa a knowing glare.

"So I take we're having breakfast tomorrow," Chuck said once Dan was out of earshot.

"I don't think so," Vanessa told him, picking up her pace, eager to get home before anyone else she knew spotted them. Lying was one thing, but doing it in front of Dan, doing it to him, made her feel small and sad.

"Dan knows now, hell everyone knows now. You should come," he told her. "It's a Lily-party so it will be boring as sin, but I'm sure I can think of something for you and I to do."

Chuck let his hand find its way to her hair, pulling on it gently, making her stop in her tracks.

"Would you stop that? Please."

"I thought we were having fun?"

"I thought we were trying to make people jealous. Should we really be having fun doing that?"

Chuck thought for a moment, but only a moment, before responding "Yes."

Vanessa only continued to walk away from him, but he quickly caught her stride. "So, how do you like your eggs?"

_Spotted: Chuck Bass and Brooklyn V. getting cozy inside a downtown Manhattan nightclub. It looked as if things were just getting started before the pair left for a destination unknown. Hmmm, I wonder whatever could have happened there. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	28. A Mix With Champagne Part 1

_Something tells me Lily van der Woodsen isn't planning on hosting a teenage brawl, but things may come to that when secrets and lies are revealed over hors d'œuvres and champagne. I can't say for sure what will happen, but I do know those dimly lit pictures of Chuck and Vanessa expose a little more than Brooklyn skin. I can't wait to see how Blair Waldorf handles all the revelations. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Vanessa Abrams pulled restlessly at the cuffs of her cream colored sheer blouse, forcing the fabric to wrinkle and expose the faintest hint of the black tank top that sat underneath. Her dark curls were pilled in a high, loose bun, and her face was nearly free of makeup except for the lush, deep red of her lips. Chuck Bass took in the sight of her as she strode into Lily van der Woodsen's apartment, her black heels clicking on the hardwood, her skirt slowly creeping up her left leg. He smiled in approval and made his approach.

"You look…presentable," Chuck told her, offering her a champagne glass while idly tossing her coat aside. He stood behind her to take in the sight of her back and neck, and to see what she saw. He scanned the room with her, nearly feeling her heartbeat through her back, nearly feeling it pound his own chest. She was nervous and it somehow put him at ease.

"Oh Chuck, you always know how to make the girls melt," Vanessa retorted sarcastically, forcing herself not to look at his own attire. She was sure, however, that he looked amazing, if the sweet, yet musky scent of his cologne was any indication.

Chuck, still standing behind her, his hand now resting on the small of her back, leaned in toward her right ear. "You look amazing," he whispered, before taking her hand and leading her inside the den of the beast.

The apartment was filled to capacity, and while it was crowded it somehow felt completely normal. Perhaps not for Vanessa, or Jenny, whom Vanessa spied sitting awkwardly with Eric at the kitchen island, but for Lily who moved about the room with ease and joy. She seemed to float above them all, as if un-phased by the commotion. She was in her element.

Servers, dressed all in black, contrasting off the light pastels and pearls donned by the various guests, walked unnoticed among the crowd. They held plates of food, breakfast delicacies Vanessa had never seen, and portions that were too small to feed even the tiniest child. As she reached out for something, a minute piece of eggs benedict, the sever closest to her turned away. Vanessa's stomach rumbled in protest. Of course, on the Upper East Side a breakfast went without food. How else could they all stay so beautiful?

Vanessa suddenly wondered if it were appropriate for her to be there. Yes, Rufus, a surrogate father of sorts, was dating Lily and that extended an invitation to Dan and Jenny, but did that mean that Vanessa belonged among them? Flirting with, and alternately feeling up, Chuck Bass in a dark nightclub was a far cry from consorting among the rich at his side in the harsh light of a New York day. The scheme they were attempting unexpectedly made her feel sick.

Taking a sip of her champagne to quell the queasy feelings brewing inside her, Vanessa could feel the eyes of the room on her and she knew it wasn't because of the blouse. Everyone was looking at her; everyone was spying Chuck's latest conquest. She felt somehow unclean. Then Lily walked past them and smiled. To her Vanessa was just another guest, another girl.

Vanessa was thankful for Lily's reaction, and noticed quickly that others followed suit. Soon other guests and more cocktails diverted their eyes. Vanessa watched Lily with amazement, but before long the thought of that type of life, a life with Chuck Bass, skulked slowly into her head. Vanessa shuddered at the thought of being a wife; not just any wife, but a socialite wife.

Chuck watched Vanessa's body stiffen, her hand moved quickly to his own and tightened around his fingers. It was an involuntary action, and Vanessa almost immediately regretted it. She tried to pull her hand away, but Chuck held her digits back. "Are you alright?" he asked her, shocked at the concern he found in his own voice.

Vanessa sprung from thoughts. "Yes," she said quickly, trying to cover her fear and doubt. "I'm alright."

"The morning has just started," he told her. "If you're having second thoughts…."

"No," Vanessa told him. "I can do this." She then retched her hand away, the feeling of Chuck's hot skin still lingering on her palm.

They both knew what she had to do.

Chuck stealthy pulled a flask of scotch from the breast pocket of his blazer and poured the liquid into his champagne glass. Champagne and scotch? Only Chuck Bass.

Just as they inhaled, accepting the mission at hand, the elevator doors opened and out stepped Nate Archibald and Blair Waldorf, walking hand in hand. Once again Chuck felt Vanessa's hand move back to his own, only this time her grip was tight but firm. The second time he liked how it felt, he liked how she needed him no matter how artificial the gains.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Vanessa only smiled in response.

Suddenly their eyes met, both Vanessa and Blair, alternating enemies and sometime friends. They were sharing in a contest of will, glaring at one another from across the room, deep dark eyes attempting to penetrate the venire of the other girl's beauty and smile. Nate and Chuck each stood helpless next to their respective dates, unsure of how to proceed.

It was unlike Chuck to be weary in any situation, but something about the way Blair looked, her black dress, the pearls strung around that delicate, pale neck, her long brown curls moving ever so slightly each time she took a step, that made him falter. Chuck tried to shake her image from his mind; the image of her that fateful night in the back of his limo, the image of her dancing on stage, the image of her clocked in candlelight after the blackout. Chuck tried to push it all away and focus on the task at hand. He too was now holding Vanessa's hand tight, their respective skins nearly melding into one another.

Luckily, for Chuck's distracting thoughts Blair was not waiting for an invitation to re-ignite the war, and taking Nate under her advance they stalked toward Vanessa and Chuck, the crowd parting like the sea around them all.

"What are you doing here?" Blair asked, her voice low, controlled.

"I live here," Chuck responded, a glint in his eye.

"Not you," Blair told him, her eyes never leaving Vanessa. "Her."

"I was invited," Vanessa returned.

"Which is more than I can say for you," Dan Humphrey offered as he breezed past the quartet, as if lending his moral support to Vanessa. His quick presence, and his witty, off-handed retort to Blair seemed to lift Vanessa's spirits and enflame her resolve to win. While Dan may not have approved of her relationship with Chuck, Vanessa knew he would not let her get trampled by the likes of Blair Waldorf.

"Serena invited…" Blair began to respond, but Dan had already disappeared back into the depths of the crowd. She sighed. "Well," Blair began again, "I should find Serena."

Just as quickly as she appeared before them Blair walked away, followed by Nate, who only shrugged in Vanessa's direction.

"Awkward," Chuck offered in response. Blair was usually ready for a fight, or at the least a fight of words. It seemed strange that she had backed away so quickly. Was she merely trying to bait him? Was he going to have to go to her for their plan to work?

Vanessa turned to face him. "This feels wrong. I don't think it's working."

"It just started," Chuck told her, attempting to stroke her arm, but she pulled it away.

"I thought it began last night," Vanessa said.

"Mmm, having a memory? Maybe getting the urge to repeat our…"

"Don't even think about it Bass," Vanessa told him forcefully. As much as the thought had crossed her mind, frequently at that, Vanessa told herself that she and Chuck were only pretending to be a couple. She told herself that if she let herself go, let herself get used to the idea of being with Chuck, it would hurt all the more when it eventually faded away. They had only kissed, caressed, but never slept together. She had to keep it that way, for her own sanity, but the longer he stood before her the harder that became.

"You know what you're missing," he told her seductively, before leaving her alone in the midst of the hoard of guests and trailed off behind Blair.

Vanessa let her shoulders fall, her smile dissipated, and she quickly finished her champagne before grabbing another glass. There was no point in keeping up appearances when there was no longer anyone watching.

"What are you doing?" Jenny Humphrey asked her once they both found themselves standing in Lily's kitchen, away from the commotion. "You know this isn't going to end well."

Vanessa nodded in response.

"What won't end well?" Dan asked, suddenly standing beside them. Vanessa tried to shake her head, to signal to Jenny not to reveal the secret the younger Humphrey had obviously understood without confirmation.

"Vanessa and Chuck," Jenny let out.

"That's an understatement," Dan returned. He was also holding a glass of champagne, but unlike the women around him he was only holding it, not drinking it. Somehow holding the glass felt like the thing to do. The only people without them were the help, and Dan was making it absolutely certain to everyone around him that he was a guest at this particular event. He had even forgone his usual tie.

"Should you be talking now?" Vanessa asked.

"Hey," he said defensively.

"I just think if anyone should give relationship advice it shouldn't be you."

"Aright. Your objection is noted," he began, prompting Jenny to laugh although she tried to conceal the giggles. "But I wasn't giving advice. I was merely….commenting."

Jenny couldn't help but laugh louder.

"And you!" Vanessa shouted.

"Me?" Jenny asked, shocked. "All I did was mention that this is a bad idea."

"A very, very bad idea," Dan said.

"Maybe you're worst," Jenny responded.

They were both smiling and laughing now.

"Ok, what's going on?" Vanessa wondered aloud. She felt so flustered she nearly finished her second glass of champagne in one gulp.

"Slow down there," Dan said, taking the glass from her hands. "Did you think I wouldn't get it? That I wouldn't understand what you and Chuck are trying to do here?"

Vanessa only looked at him with surprise and confusion.

"Trying to make Nate jealous with a fake relationship with Chuck? Am I right?"

Before Vanessa could answer, Jenny interjected, putting her small frame between the two friends. "Don't worry," Jenny assured her, knowing Vanessa was concerned her ploy with Chuck was that transparent. "I told him."

"I could have figured it out on my own, thank you."

"You came home last night in a panic. He saw you and Chuck on the street somewhere, holding hands or something and was immediately trying to come up with snarky comebacks for his confrontation with Chuck."

"_You_ were planning on confronting him?" Vanessa asked, now unable to stop a smile from creeping onto her own face.

"I can be persuasive," Dan told her.

"Not as persuasive as Chuck," Jenny said flatly. Both Dan and Vanessa glared at her. "What? It's true."

"So now people know," Vanessa said defeated.

"People? No just me and Mr. Intimidating over here," Jenny told her. "No one else knows. I wouldn't do that, I promise."

"And how did you figure it out?" Vanessa asked.

Jenny leaned in, her voice in a low whisper and responded, "because we're friends." She pulled back to wink at Vanessa before adding, "And I'm wicked smart. Plus those pictures of you two on Gossip Girl looked a little one-sided."

"You could tell I wasn't into it?" Vanessa asked, somewhat appalled at her own acting skills.

Jenny sighed and shook her head, as if frustrated by a small child still unable to grasp that if they touch the hot stovetop they will get burned. "I meant one-sided from _you_."

"Oh," Vanessa responded. "Ohhhhhh," she suddenly let out, now understanding what Jenny meant. It was Chuck who appeared uninspired and unimpressed in the pictures. It was Chuck who needed to improve his acting. Which meant, it was her who was falling faster then first anticipated. She gave Jenny a knowing look and shook her head as if embarrassed by what the littlest Humphrey was able to see in her, in everyone.

Jenny nodded her head back toward the commotion beyond the kitchen, in the direction of a waiting Chuck Bass. He was holding yet another drink. Vanessa shrugged her shoulders, as if signaling to the Humphreys that she was unsure of herself, of the moment, and of what she had gotten herself into. Still, she moved towards him.

"What was that about?" Chuck asked when she returned to his side.

"Just talking to my friends," she said flatly.

"About me?" he replied, a wicked smirk on his face.

"Not everything's about you."

"Not everything, but most things. And you were talking about me," he told her, as if he had listening devices planted throughout the home. He spoke to her with such resolve his words were taken as fact.

Vanessa looked at him deep in the eyes and said, "we were talking about you and how people know this is just a sham."

"What?"

"I guess the pictures on Gossip Girl weren't everything you'd hoped they'd be. Maybe you should reconsider what it is you want or re-ignite your passion for making out with strangers in bars. Your choice."

Vanessa was trying to string him into revealing why he hadn't been "on" in those pictures. She was trying to understand why she was the only one whose heart was invested, while it was only Chuck's brain, his scheming brain, which seemed involved.

Chucked leaned in close, his lips nearly grazing her right ear, the heat from his mouth making the tiny hairs on her neck stand on edge. "But you're no stranger," he told her. "You're far from a stranger to me."

Vanessa felt her knees give a little and she involuntarily reached for Chuck's forearm to keep her steady. It was exactly the reaction he had wanted. Vanessa knew he had won again.

Chuck was counting on was a spying Blair Waldorf, taking in the scene from her hiding place across the room. She watched as Chuck moved his body closer to Vanessa. She watched as Vanessa's own form softened, allowing him to get as close to her as possible. She watched as his lips bore down toward her ear and neck, his mouth getting lost from view in the loose tendrils that fell from Vanessa's up-pinned hair. She watched as Vanessa reached for his arm, watched as they were suddenly holding one another, watched as they become one.

"Are you hungry?" Nate asked Blair. He was suddenly standing behind her, but seemingly unaware of what she was staring at. The crowd had begun to block her view and she was forced to turn away.

Blair gently put her hand to Nate's chest. "You know I don't eat at these things," she said kindly. "But I will take some champagne."

Her eyebrow rose mischievously and it made Nate smile. "Champagne on an empty stomach. That sounds like a good idea," he responded sarcastically, but still went to fetch her a glass.

"Can't see them anymore?" Dan asked, appearing behind her just like Nate had, only this time Blair was not so happy to hear the voice near her ear.

"I can't see what anymore?" she asked.

"You know what?" he told her.

"Don't you have drinks to serve?" she said snidely.

"Not today Blair," Dan said. "And I don't think drinking is such a good idea for you. It does little for your temperament."

"Are you trying to bait me into an argument?" she asked coyly, finally turning to look him in the eye.

"Would it matter if I was?" he said flatly. "I think you'd argue with me no matter what."

"Don't flatter yourself," she said. Then as Dan began to walk away Blair found herself following him. She couldn't help it. Somehow standing in that room without Nate at her side she felt unsure of herself, almost inferior. The sight of Chuck and Vanessa together was getting to her, even though a piece of her knew it was all part of the game.

"Are you following me?" Dan asked incredulously as he walked back toward the sanctuary of the kitchen. He had meant to walk passed Blair, make his snide comments and leave. He hadn't planned on her following him.

Blair caught herself on Dan's heels, but his voice snapped her out of her daze. "I was…I was wondering if you knew where Serena was," Blair answered.

"Not here, that's for sure," Dan said.

"Well where?"

"Off with preppy, rich boys or on a nude beach in Spain. Maybe even on Page Six," he responded.

"Someone sounds jealous," Blair told him. She turned her head sharply, scanning the room for Nate, but he was still nowhere to be found.

"Hardly," Dan replied, reminding Blair that they were indeed having a conversation. "Serena's allowed to do as she pleases. We broke up remember?"

"Which time?" Blair responded.

"Thanks," Dan said, finally taking a sip from his champagne glass, the liquid now warm, yet oddly forgiving. Drinking it kept him from opening his mouth and giving Blair a piece of his mind. They had been through so much over the past year, intrinsically linked through Serena, but also Vanessa and Chuck.

"Sorry," Blair let out. It was a whisper, but Dan heard her, yet he failed to respond.

"You ordered champagne madam?" Nate said cheerfully as he returned to Blair. He was being cheerful, too cheerful. It was as if he was masking his feelings of doubt and fear with a smile and a nod. As Vanessa watched him from across the room she thought one day Nate Archibald would make a great politician. The thought made her feel ill.

"Thank you," Blair said, looking around to find that Dan was still there, standing on the opposite side of her. Together they were a precarious picture of the Upper East Side; the rich girl, the rich boy, and the person on the outside looking in. In all honesty, however, Dan had been slowly becoming a member of their group. His lack of money almost didn't matter. Jenny Humphrey, on the other hand, was another story.

"Can you believe them?" Jenny asked Dan, not realizing Blair and Nate were standing among them. "I guess Chuck is really upping the ante; his acting is improving."

Jenny was peering through the hoards of guests at a seemingly obliviously Chuck and Vanessa. They were not, however, oblivious. The couple was purposefully leaning into one another, talking quietly, laughing, touching, all done for show.

"What do you mean?" Blair asked suddenly, causing Jenny to step back in a state of fear. The secret was out.

"Ummmm," Jenny began, but she was twisted and tongue-tied.

"They're acting?" Blair asked. "They're acting," she said again, now acutely aware that her suspicions were right.

"Acting?" Nate said, breaking through the fog that surrounded the group.

"They're trying to make us jealous. Right?" Blair asked, but neither Dan nor Jenny responded. In fact, they were slowly backing away from her, trying to find a place to hide.

"Jealous?" Nate asked. It seemed to Blair that he didn't understand.

"Don't you get it? They're trying to put a wedge between us. To make us jealous of them," Blair said, her speech fast, the wheels in her head turning and turning, nearly spinning off their axis.

Nate opened his mouth to respond, but Blair began again. "Those Gossip Girl pictures, I knew they couldn't be real."

"What pictures?"

"God Nate, where have you been lately?" she asked, frustrated.

Nate only shook his head in disbelief, disbelief at the knowledge that Chuck Bass could once again ruin his relationship with Blair.

"There were pictures on Gossip Girl of those two with their hands all over each other," Blair said, taking Nate's hand and nearly dragging him toward Chuck and Vanessa. Nate jerked back forcing Blair to stop and turn before him, her hair wiping over her right shoulder, her face flush with both anger and shock.

"What are you doing?" she said, looking down at the grip they each had on one another's hands.

"What are you doing?" Nate asked, his eyes full of concern. Still, Blair detected the doubt again, doubt behind those eyes. She wanted to stop and stay still with him, be happy with him, but her jealousy and frustration seethed within her. She couldn't let Chuck do this to her. She couldn't let him try to make her fume, knowing that just a few weeks earlier she would have done anything to be with him. How could he now play her like this? How could he now try to win her back, when she was always his to begin with? She couldn't let it be.

Blair turned away from Nate and proceeded back towards Chuck and Vanessa.

Nate let her go.

_Good morning New Yorkers. Now what's a beautiful, socialite breakfast soirée without a little drama? As the champagne flows and the rich congratulate themselves for another week won, a Brooklyn girl is wondering if her plans have been exposed. Oh, poor, poor Vanessa, another scheme comes to a halt thanks to Blair Waldorf. Yes, it looks like Nate and Blair's new relationship is hitting a snag, but that's nothing out of the ordinary for them. And it's nothing out of the ordinary for Chuck to pick up the pieces. I hope he doesn't leave any behind. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	29. A Mix With Champagne Part 2

_Looks like Bass and Queen B. won't be the life of Lily's party after all, but they may make a splash in the bedroom. My spies tell me something heated is going on and you know how much I like a good, hot New York day. Poor Vanessa and Nate, though. When will those two kids get it? They may just be sidekicks in someone else's story, or they may be looking for a spin-off. Who else will be tuning in? XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"We need to talk," Blair Waldorf said sternly, taking Chuck Bass' hand without permission and pulling him away.

Vanessa Abrams could only look on, as her "date" got lost in the crowd.

Chuck felt Blair's grip tighten; yet somehow it didn't feel the same as when Vanessa held his hand. With Blair the grip was full of anger, and yet so much passion. Chuck couldn't help but feel slightly aroused as Blair led him up the stairs, away from the crowd and into Serena's room. He loved it when she was forceful.

Closing the door behind them, Blair let go of Chuck's hand and he found himself sitting on the edge of Serena's bed, with Blair standing over him. Her face was flush, her cheeks red, her lips pert and almost in a pout.

"You know, we could have gone to my bedroom," Chuck told her, his smile growing along with the bulge in his pants.

Blair scoffed at the thought. "Don't flatter yourself Chuck. That's not why I'm here," she said peering down at his crotch. "So you can put your friend away."

Chuck looked down as well, but he wasn't embarrassed by her comment.

"Did you think it was going to work?" she began, not able to hold back her feelings, not able to quell the countless screams in her mind.

"What would work?" Chuck asked, slowly taking off his blazer and calmly and carefully laying it next to him on the bed.

"Your little game Chuck," Blair told him, pacing before him, back and forth, her heels clicking on the hardwood again and again.

"Well I do like games," he said cryptically. He was loosening his tie, letting the soft silk move through his fingers as he pulled the knot apart. He placed the tie on top of his blazer, then got to work unbuttoning his shirt.

"I know what you and Vanessa are doing. Trying to make Nate and me jealous. Trying to use that…that…trash to make me feel bad," Blair's voice was rising, the words escaping her lips in a steady stream without breath. She was angry, but as soon as she said the word "trash" she regretted it. Yes, she had used labels before, but after everything she and Vanessa had been through, everything they had shared, she didn't want to label her so harshly. The quick, fleeting thought of remorse surprised her, but Blair pushed on.

"Jealous?" Chuck asked, raising an eyebrow, but Blair was not looking in his direction. She was still pacing, still talking, still feeling uneasy. "Is it even possible to make you jealous?"

"You know it is," Blair said flatly, almost in a whisper. She then lowered her head, painful aware of the hold Chuck had on her.

Raising her head back up and finally turning toward Chuck, Blair was presented with the sight of him, his shirt off, only a thin white undershirt visible. His belt was already undone. He was looking at her recklessly and she knew the thoughts that raced through his mind were unpure. Yet, somehow even in her state of anger she felt her heart race , her palms sweat, and her lips grow dry, calling out to be watered by Chuck's own mouth. Her body was betraying her and she knew it. What was going on?

"What is going on?" Blair asked, taking a step back, trying to put space between herself and his body.

"What do you think is going on?" he said.

"Stop answering a question with a question. And start answering my questions," she responded flustered.

Chuck stood up and walked toward her. Blair froze in place. He reached out for her, his hands running up the length of her bare arms, feeling her skin grow warm beneath his touch. He leaned in close and smelled her hair. Blair faltered, but only for a moment, before pushing him back.

"I can't do this anymore," she said sadly.

"Yes you can," he responded. "You love doing this. It's what you and I were meant to do."

"No," she shook her head. "No. You said you lost me. You said you didn't want me because I was becoming a different person, a worse person."

"Yale, Carter, drinking, destroying," Chuck began to list while walking back toward her. "Yeah, you were different. And now…now you're the Blair I want to…"

"Stop!" Blair shouted. "Just stop."

They both stood still for a moment, but Chuck could not help himself. He reached out for her once more.

"What part of stop don't you get?" Blair asked, swatting his hand away.

"You brought me in here for a reason Blair. I think we both know it wasn't to talk."

"It was to yell at you."

"No it wasn't. You were jealous of Vanessa."

"Please…."

"Jealous that I trusted her enough to plan this scheme with her," he said.

His words caught her and Blair nearly choked on her own intake of breath.

"That's not what this is about," Blair said, but they could both tell her determination was absent from the statement. She had thought for a moment that she was angry because Chuck was playing her yet again, but thinking now standing before him she knew that was nothing new. He was right, the games were a core part of their relationship, and while she hated how long the games tended to last she craved playing with him. She was jealous that Vanessa was now playing with them too. She was heartbroken.

Chuck was counting on it.

"I knew you'd figure it out. Vanessa and I making out in a club, you'd see through that," he said, his hands again finding their way to her arms.

"I was meant to figure it out," Blair said suddenly, realizing what the game really was.

Chuck pulled her closer, their bodies pressing against one another, their lips almost meeting in a kiss. Chuck let his mouth smooth along the line of her jaw, planting the softest kisses up toward her eyes, her lashes fluttering under his touch. She couldn't help but reach around him, placing her hands on his back, her fingers tightly gripping the cotton undershirt, stretching its form. Her waist pressed into him, into his leg, exposing that she was shorter than him, despite her heels. Blair wanted to press into another part of his anatomy, but Chuck moved back and forth around her face kissing her ever so slightly keeping her off kilter.

He let his hands roam down to her lower back, then down further, gripping at her soft skin, trying to somehow tear through the fabric of her dress. Blair began to tug back, pulling and pushing the fabric of his shirt up his back, letting her fingernails run along his skin, forcing him to jump slightly under her ever increasing touch.

The room began to grow hot, the sweat of their bodies, the heat of their respective breaths, filling the area around them. Blair wanted to take off her dress, to let it slid off her form to the floor. She wanted to expose herself to Chuck once more. Yet, something held her back. He hadn't said it yet, those three little words she has craved for so long. He hadn't done anything in fact, to make her believe he felt it. Jenny had said Chuck Bass had been "acting" with Vanessa. Was he acting now?

Before Blair could truly understand what was going on, Chuck's mouth found its way to her neck, where he kissed and licked and nipped at it. Blair sighed into his skin, letting herself go, letting her body fall limp in his arms.

Just as he brought his mouth to hers, his lips mere millimeters away, Serena's bedroom door opened. The room was already cast in sunlight, but somehow the artificial light from the hallway made Blair recoil, trying to hide in Chuck's chest, trying to kept prying eyes at bay.

"God Chuck. You can't leave it in your pants for five minutes," Vanessa said, her voice sounding hurt, sad, insecure. She shook her head in shame and disgust before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.

Chuck pulled away from Blair, but the moment felt stale. She didn't seem to understand what was going on. She thought they were acting. Why was Vanessa upset? Was she upset, but not furious? Where did she stand?

Chuck began re-clothing himself, putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up to the collar. He slipped the blazer back over his shoulders and then stuffed the silk tie in one of the side pockets. He then stalked toward the bedroom door preparing to leave.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked, almost reaching forward to grab him, to stop him.

"After Vanessa," he said calmly, casually.

"What?" Blair let out. She was so confused. "I thought you wanted me?"

"I always want you Blair," he said leaning in toward her, "but I'm with Vanessa now."

Blair laughed, the sound erupting in Chuck's face. "You're lying. I can see it in your eyes. What is this?"

"Why? Does it hurt?"

"Of course it hurts! I mean…." Her voice trailed off as yet another light bulb turned on inside her head. The day had been filled with revelations, and they were all cruel.

Blair looked into Chuck's eyes, her own glazing over with water despite the fact that she tried to hold it all in. Chuck's eyes, on the other hand, were almost smiling at her. God, he could be wicked.

"You should go," he told her flatly, opening the door, "to your boyfriend."

Blair inhaled deeply, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

"You should go to Nate."

Chuck then walked out of the bedroom without looking back. Pacing himself through the crowd, taking more glasses of champagne, making small talk, which he hated, Chuck waited for Blair to reveal herself. He waited to see her walk down those stairs. Waited to see the look on her face as she tried to hide her outrage or her sadness. He waited, but she never came.

"Where's Blair?" Nate said, suddenly standing directly in front of Chuck, his eyes barring down on his friend.

"How should I know? She's not my girlfriend," he responded flippantly.

Nate grabbed the champagne glass from Chuck's hand and placed it on one of the many serving trays that seemed to float about the room. "Cut the crap," he said. "Where is she?"

"Worried?" Chuck asked.

Nate only continued to stare him down. He inwardly hated when their friendship hit rocky patches, as it so often did, but he held firm to the belief that he had chosen correctly. Even though he knew it was a lie, Nate had to pretend that Blair was the perfect fit for him. It wasn't about losing, as it always seemed to be with Chuck, it was simply about keeping promises. Nate had promised to be with Blair, and after hurting Vanessa he was actively trying not to repeat those same mistakes; no matter how much it hurt him to do so.

"Sometimes you really amaze me Chuck," Nate said lowly. Chuck immediately grinned in response, but it quickly faded as Nate continued. "And then sometimes I'm just so used to you being a liar and a cheat that it doesn't faze me at all."

Nate briskly turned and walked away. His words were nothing new, nothing Chuck Bass had not already heard, but they cut deep. He wanted to wash off the feeling and went in search of Vanessa.

Vanessa Abrams was standing outside Lily van der Woodsen's apartment building. The sunny morning had given way to a cloudy afternoon, the wind picking up in all directions. Her loose, up-pinned hair had been blown down, curls wrapping around her face this way and that. Chuck watched from his perch at the magnificent glass doors that led out onto the sidewalk as Vanessa periodically lifted a hand to her hair and brushed it back in one quick stroke. Her actions were useless however, and as she turned to the building in the hopes of letting the wind blow the hair from her face, she caught sight of Chuck strolling out to meet her.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No, thank you," she responded, already sensing that Chuck was going to offer her his blazer, as he had his hands on the lapel ready to help guide the piece off.

They stood for a moment in an awkward silence as party guests drifted in and out of the building.

"You did good," he told her, but the statement lacked praise or encouragement. It seemed strange, even to Chuck, to congratulate a woman like Vanessa on her ability to lie. Especially after what Nate had said.

"I know," she told him flatly. "But how did you know? How did you know she would take you up there? How could you have predicted that? I mean, what exactly were we doing up there?"

"Making them jealous," Chuck said, as if the question posed was ridiculous in nature.

"No, Chuck," Vanessa said slowly, sadly, already knowing the answers to her own questions, but hoping Chuck would supply them instead. "_We_ weren't doing anything. _You_ were trying to hurt Blair. And not just to make her jealous, but to actually hurt her."

Chuck opened his mouth in order to defend his actions, but before he had time to react Vanessa was in front of him, her heels helping to bring them face-to-face. For a moment Chuck wondered if she was going to kiss him, but he could see the misery in her eyes and knew it was not meant to be.

"You told me you were finally being honest. I should have known it was all another lie," she continued. "You said you 'liked me', that you liked being with me, but not as much as you liked Blair. If you could do this to her, what does that say about any future with us?"

"What did I do?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"You knew she'd figure us out, she was supposed to. She would come to you all angry, or better yet, begging to have you back, and then you'd rope her in. Right?" Vanessa asked, but she did not wait for a response. "You weren't trying to win her back, you were trying to show her what she had missed out on by picking Nate. You were trying to punish her."

Chuck knew she was right, knew that she saw through him. Lately everyone was able to see through him, and he wondered why. Yet, he could not admit defeat. "Weren't you trying to punish Nate?"

Vanessa lowered her head, the curls gently moving in the wind and brushing the smooth skin of Chuck's right cheek. "This was never about Nate. It was always about you."

She then wrapped her arms around her body, not to keep her warm, but to shield herself from any pain, and gradually walked away. She walked slowly enough so that it would not be hard to follow her, to stop her, to reason with her, but no one did.

Vanessa found herself in the heart of Manhattan, sitting on a bench, eating a salty pretzel. She was people-watching, something that only a few days before she had done. Something she had done, which had allowed Chuck to find her. Part of her being wanted that experience again, wanted him to stroll by and stop and sit for a while. Yet, the other part knew it couldn't and shouldn't be. Instead, she sat, almost motionless, aimlessly picking at her snack with her fingers and imagining a time that would cease to exist. A time where she knew nothing of Chuck Bass and his friends. A time before this all began.

"Now how are you going to get all those good calories if you don't actually eat it?" a familiar voice said, as a warm body sat down next to her. "Ditching the party I see."

"You too, huh?"

"It's not really my scene," he said.

Vanessa laughed.

"Ok, ok. It is my scene, but not today." Nate Archibald slumped down on the bench, his suit wrinkling beneath and behind him. He seemed despondent, but Vanessa still grew happy being with him. There was just something about Nate that made her smile, despite anything he may have done to her.

"Have I apologized?" he asked, looking at her now with hurt _and_ hope in his eyes.

"No," she said seriously. "Not yet."

Nate inhaled deeply, as if preparing to recite a speech he'd memorized or let loose a stream of regretfully thoughts and feelings, but Vanessa cut him off.

"Don't apologize," she said sweetly. "It's not necessary."

"Yes it is. I hurt you…" he began.

"And I lied to you," Vanessa told him. She turned to face him, taking his hands in her own. "You and I are so great together, we really are, but maybe not as lovers." A tear escaped her left eye and began to trail down her lush cheeks, yet she was unsure who she was crying for: Nate, herself, Chuck, or even Blair. It was a mystery. "I wanted to be with you because I thought you were safe, because I craved normalcy, and because I was trying to relive the past. And all of that wasn't fair to you. Blair…she's…"

"Not you," Nate said, letting go of Vanessa's hand to wipe her tear away. "Blair can be many things, many things that I want, but she will never be you," he said forcefully, trying to make her believe in his words. "I want you to know that even if I'm with her, that doesn't mean there didn't exist a time where I was _with_ you, totally with you, falling for you. I want you to know that despite our differences you are amazing Vanessa."

"Amazing?" she repeated, confused. Why did he have to say beautiful, wonderful things now, now that they were over?

"Amazing, but not…" he paused for a minute, not really sure of how to proceed.

"But not as a girlfriend," Vanessa continued.

"Yeah. At least not now."

Things had all happened so fast, Vanessa thought. People falling in and out of relationships; people falling in and out of love. Her own feelings seemingly turned on a dime from the sweet, seemingly sincere rich, boy-next-door to the bad boy of New York's Page Six. How had everything flipped upside down?

No matter the turbulence they faced, Nate still cared for her, Vanessa could see. He still felt something for her, something she couldn't quite place. However, Vanessa knew what it was not.

"You were never in love with me," Vanessa stated. It wasn't a sad fact, and her voice was normal as the words fell from her lips. It was just a fact, like any other. A fact they were both coming to terms with. Not all high school romances are meant to be.

"And you were never in love with me," he said back. They both nodded in agreement.

After taking Vanessa's picked-at pretzel and helping himself to a bite Nate continued. "So then why are you and Chuck trying to make me jealous?"

Vanessa shook her head and sighed. "It's not for you. It's for her."

"I understand that. I mean, I understand why Chuck would be involved in this little charade, but if you don't want me back then what's in it for you?" As soon as the question was released into the atmosphere the answer came into view. "No. No, no, no," he repeated.

"Yes."

"You like Chuck," he said, almost in anguish and disgust. The look on his face spoke volumes.

"Hey, he is your friend," she reminded him.

"Well, that depends on what day of the week it is," he said flatly. "Besides, Chuck loves Blair, he told me once."

"I figured," she said dejectedly.

"Oh God, Vanessa. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that…."

"I know. I know what I got myself into. I get it."

Nate took another bite of the pretzel before throwing the remained of it a few feet in front of them for the waiting, watching birds. He couldn't truly believe Vanessa cared for Chuck, perhaps even loved him given the lengths she'd already gone to help him in his foolish games. Nate wondered how it was that he squandered a girl like Vanessa away and he wondered how a man like Chuck deserved her.

"Then why did you do it?" he asked. "If you knew it wouldn't get you anywhere, why go through with it?"

"Why are you dating Blair, even though you know she loves Chuck?"

Nate had no answer for her. He had no answers at all; helping him to understand the position Vanessa found herself in. Sometimes no answers existed. Sometimes good people made mistakes.

"So what are we going to do?" Nate asked somewhat helplessly.

"I know exactly what I'm going to do."

Chuck sat in the back seat of his car, the driver looking straight ahead, careful not to catch his boss' eye in the rearview mirror. The stereo was on, playing something low, something moody, something sad. Chuck normally preferred silence in the car or hot, sweaty moaning, but for some reason he asked the music be turned up. It soothed him, kept him company when no one else would.

After having driven around his own neighborhood and Central Park, an area Vanessa loved to walk and take pictures in, Chuck and his car were idling only blocks from his home. He had yet to find what he was looking for and was deciding whether or not to go back, wondering if either Vanessa or Blair would be there.

Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket, pulling him from his own thoughts. For a moment, Chuck held out hope that there would be a comforting voice on the other end. When the screen flashed a Gossip Girl alert, the knowledge that his friends were slowly dwindling in number came into stark view. Regardless, Chuck flipped open his phone and set his sights on a picture of Nate Archibald and Vanessa Abrams, sitting on a park bench together. They were laughing.

The caption read: _Is Brooklyn back in the money?_


	30. An Aromatic Flavor

_Sometimes you have to leave your comfort zone to find out what it is you truly want, and sometimes you have to fall back into the past. It sure looks like Nate and Vanessa are trying out the latter, but what about poor Chuck Bass and his Queen B.? Maybe this calls for a new beginning, but by my count that would be one 'new beginning' too many. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"I love you."

The words entered the atmosphere, jumpy, high-pitched.

"I love you."

Softened, yet still unsure.

"I love you."

Low, almost a whisper.

"I love you."

Chuck Bass looked at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, clad only in a towel, his hair still wet and smelling of shampoo. He had wiped away the mist and steam in order to look at his own ragged features, dark circles under his eyes that had formed during the last three nights he spent without sleep. Hands wrapped around the edges of the granite countertop with his chest slumped forward, water trickled down Chuck's form from his shoulders to his taunt, tight stomach. Inhaling and exhaling seemed to take all his strength. He had been beaten down, and he had done it all to himself.

Speaking the phrase over and over, speaking it into the mirror, speaking it to himself, did not seem to help. Chuck was unsure what he was meant to get out of expelling such thoughts from his mind and mouth. Were the words going to make things better? It certainly felt like they could only make things worse; especially since he wasn't sure who he needed to say them too.

"I'm sorry."

A sarcastic, flippant phrase.

"I'm sorry."

The words began more gradual, slow, but they only sounded forced that way.

"I'm sorry."

Cracks in the pitch exposed.

"I'm sorry."

Blair Waldorf stared intently at her own reflection while seated in front of her vanity. She was applying makeup, a swirl of pink blush, a dab of red lip-gloss, and a few layers of mascara. She was trying her best to look her best, as beauty sometimes tended to act as a barrier, a shield against pain; not that she couldn't feel the pain, but that others faltered in their ability to dole it out. Whenever her mother and father were angry with her, Blair would tie her hair in a little bow, pinch her pale cheeks, a trick she'd seen other socialite women perform in lieu of rouge, and then bat her long, dark eyelashes. It worked more than half the time, therefore she thought, it couldn't hurt now.

Saying the short phrase again and again, Blair changed her inflection trying in vain to make it sound real. She meant the words, but she was unsure whom she meant them for. That hesitance kept the words shaky and kept her from rising from her seat.

"I can't."

The voice hushed, labored.

"I can't."

Rising in pitch and tone.

"I can't."

Stern, authoritative, yet somehow still tender enough to sound real.

"I can't."

Nate Archibald watched his lips form those words over and over, his reflection dancing before him on a mirror that hung behind his bedroom door. Taking in his full-length form, he initially questioned his choice of outfit, removing one v-neck sweater for another then doing it again. Sighing loudly, as if there were someone else in the room he was expressing his frustrations to, Nate stopped, letting the last sweater fall to the floor. He was clad only in jeans and crisp, white t-shirt. He looked like James Dean, if James Dean were about to renege on a promise.

Reciting the words repeatedly, increasing his inflection and his own belief in the phrase, Nate was attempting to prepare himself for a meeting no one wants to have. Would anything good come of it? Or could he expect to be alone forever? Nate was uncertain of the answers, just as he was uncertain to whom he would say the words first.

"I hate you."

It was an outright lie.

"I'm not sorry."

It was a half-truth.

"I won't."

It had already been done.

"I can't take this anymore."

It was an inescapable fact.

There were fifty-nine tiles, dirty white and spotted with tiny black holes leading to the nothingness above, littering the ceiling of Vanessa Abrams' favorite Brooklyn bar. Sitting in a wooden chair, smoothed down by years of wear, the polish and stain almost non-existent, she kicked up her feet and placed them carelessly onto the tabletop. There was no one around to object, and in the mood Vanessa was in she wouldn't have cared if there were. Head tilted back, counting the tiles again and again, Vanessa stayed stationary; afraid to walk about, fearful she would catch a glimpse of herself in one of the countless mirrors or reflective hangings that covered the walls. She had wanted to get away, to be in a place no one would look for her, but she hadn't wanted to look at herself. She was run down, tired, and on the verge of a break. A mental break or an emotional break, she still wasn't sure.

Sipping her Diet Coke, her fake ID worthless in an establishment where everyone knew her name, and staring up aimlessly Vanessa tried to say all the words she hadn't said before. She said them again and again, yet they were always different. She had too much to expel, too much to relinquish, and too many people to say it all to.

"Where do we stand?" Chuck asked, sliding into a seat across from her before picking her feet up off the table and setting them back on the ground. The shift in her weight and balance forced her to look him straight in the eye. Vanessa was unsure of what she saw, but she was certain her sanctuary no longer existed.

Vanessa only shrugged in response to his earlier statement and went back to consuming her drink, taking loud, obnoxious sips through her straw.

"I saw you and Nate together," Chuck said, taking his coat off, revealing a very familiar scarf.

"No, you didn't," Vanessa said back.

"I saw it on Gossip Girl," he told her.

"Well, then that's not the same thing is it?"

Chuck waved over the server and ordered a scotch. The manner in which he did it, cool and calm and calculated, allowed the server to trust him, as so many mistakenly did. The drink arrived only a few minutes later. Vanessa grinned, knowing he was capable of getting so much more.

"A picture says a thousand words," he replied finally, after lubricating his mouth and throat with the aromatic flavor.

"The words it speaks can be different to each viewer, and something tells me you're not one for the tiny details," Vanessa stated coldly.

"I'm all about the details."

"Not when it comes to seeing what you want to see," she said truthfully, and Chuck did not argue or object. "Nate and I came to an understanding."

Chuck raised an eyebrow while raising his glass in a mock toast.

"Not that kind of agreement," Vanessa protested. "And if it were, you shouldn't be happy about it."

"I shouldn't?" Chuck questioned, but he knew there would be no answer. "So I take it you two are friends now?"

"Yes, sort of, we're working on it" she said slumping back in her chair again, finding more comfort in herself and her surroundings, despite the miscommunication of her words. She and Nate had talked the previous day, had tried to sort things out, but that night in the solace of her apartment Vanessa realized perhaps she wasn't ready for a friendship. Perhaps she needed to be alone. The thought scared her half to death and that's why she couldn't reveal it to Chuck. Instead she said, "it's how things are meant to be…at least for now."

The last part came out in a low tone, but Chuck still heard it and it made him question the task at hand.

"Why are you here?" she suddenly asked him.

"I said it earlier," he began. "I came to find out where we stand."

Vanessa was slightly hurt by his statement, but she couldn't have truly expected anything more from him.

"I want you to know that…"

Vanessa cut him off. "I hate you," she suddenly said, her voice so loud it caught the attention of the people at the next table and even the bartender.

"Excuse me?"

Vanessa began to laugh, a real laugh, a laugh the made her feel good. "I just had to say it," she told him, a smile still plastered on her face.

Chuck was taken aback. "Did you mean it?"

"No. Well, sometimes," she responded honestly, "but not right now."

Vanessa couldn't understand why she did not hate him this very instant. He was smug and arrogant and looking at her with eyes full of misinformation. It was as if lies could spill from him at any moment and no one would be the wiser. She couldn't trust him, and for Vanessa trust was everything. So why didn't she hate him? Because she had let him into her bar, her home, her heart. She had done it to herself. There was no one else to blame.

"Thank you," Chuck said, before he truly understood that the words were coming out of his mouth. What was he thanking her for? Perhaps the sweet solace that there was at least one person on Earth who didn't truly loathe him…perhaps not.

"Don't," Vanessa told him, taking one last swallow and finishing her soda. She then got up from her chair and proceeded toward the door, stopping only to shout a final goodbye to the owner.

Chuck gathered his things together and followed after her. "I need to tell you something," he called.

"Not today!" she yelled over her shoulder, her back to him. "I have somewhere I need to be." With that Vanessa rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

There were twelve cracks in the sidewalk outside of the apartment building. Most of them superficial, almost like scratches in pavement, which ran along the walking path to the front door. Vanessa was surprised to find them there, thinking that real estate on the Upper East Side was supposed to be perfect, including the concrete outside it. Either way, the cracks gave her something to count, and something to avoid as she paced back and forth. Every time she passed the large, glass doors, her reflection played about them, but Vanessa kept her head down, careful not to look.

The door man watched her nervously, having already asked what she wanted, but not having the heart to turn her away. Vanessa was waiting for someone, and it felt as if she would wait forever.

"I require a taxi," a voice said over her shoulder, a voice coming from the door. Vanessa turned to meet it, but was only greeted with a frown and a look of disdain. "What are you doing here?"

"I have something to say to you Blair," Vanessa responded, standing still, waiting for Blair to walk the few feet to her.

Against her better judgment Blair cancelled her request for a cab and walked slowly toward Vanessa, who was already turning away.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked.

"We're walking now," Vanessa told her. Blair got a sudden rush, her whole body shaking with deja vu. It wasn't the words that were familiar, but the sweet, yet aggressive tone. God, Blair thought, Vanessa was turning into him, and with that she followed.

"What do you want to talk about?" Blair asked, the afternoon sun casting shadows of them off the exteriors of the buildings to their right.

"We've done this before," Vanessa began.

"I know," Blair quickly interjected. "And it always ends badly. So should we walk more or should you just spill it right here?"

They had done it all before. They had talked more in the last few months than Blair had with Serena; real talks at least. Somehow along the way they had begun to share things with one another, things they wouldn't have shared with their closest friends, perhaps because they were ashamed or embarrassed. No matter what, each girl truly did not care what the other thought of her, and somehow that was a freeing concept.

"I'm not sorry," Vanessa blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Blair returned.

"About yesterday, about the party. I'm not sorry you fell for it. I'm not."

Blair scoffed in Vanessa's direction. "I don't need your pity."

"I know that," Vanessa said honestly. "But I also wanted you to know that I won't ever feel beholden to you because of what happened. I won't be your partner in crime."

"I don't …" Blair began, but Vanessa cut her off.

"Whatever Blair Waldorf scheme you're cooking up right now, I won't participate," there was a long pause. "On either side."

Blair was confused. Was she giving up? Was Vanessa falling on her sword?

"So you and Chuck?"

"Over," Vanessa revealed.

"That was fast," Blair said to herself, but Vanessa heard her anyway.

"Do you love him?" Vanessa asked her once they had finally stopped at the corner of the block.

"Yes," Blair said without doubt, without hesitation.

"So do I," Vanessa said, in the same tone, the same determined look in her eye.

Blair thought quickly to herself if this was the first time such information was being revealed. She had known Vanessa liked Chuck, was attracted to Chuck, found some sort of comfort in Chuck, but did she truly know that the Brooklyn girl loved him? Blair was unsure of how to proceed. What would happen if they both loved him? What would happen if he loved both of them? Or worse, what would happen if her loved just Vanessa and not her? Blair's head hung low, until she heard Vanessa speak again.

"I told Nate," she said comfortingly. "I think you should do the same."

Vanessa then turned to walk down the street, going in the direction of the park, assuming it would be the opposite way Blair was about to travel. Suddenly, however, she felt the urge to correct her earlier statement and turned around. Blair was still standing in place, still looking confused.

"I'm sorry," Vanessa called.

Blair looked at her. "I thought you said…"

"Not that part," Vanessa interrupted. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

She then turned back and faded away into the crowd.

There were eighteen buzzers on the panel before her; the name plates a shining, perfect bronze. Each name was progressively richer-sounding then the name before it, each name long and greater and grander than one could have thought possible. Vanessa studied them all carefully, knowing which one she had to push, but not ready to do so. Smoothing her loose, wild curls back, hoping soft, free hair would make-up for a sad, tired face Vanessa raised her right index finger and brought it forward to press the correct button. It was a labored exercise in mental strength, one she had yet to win.

Just as her skin touched the buzzer, a sound wrestled out of the atmosphere behind her and she was cast in shadow. A figure appeared and a familiar, welcome voice arose.

"Thinking that hard about pushing a button, huh? That can't be a good sign."

"Well now I don't have to push it at all," Vanessa smartly returned, turning around to smile warmly at Nate Archibald.

"You wanna come up?" he asked.

Vanessa felt her stomach drop. Something about being in Nate's apartment, maybe even his bedroom, when they were no longer a couple did not feel right. She needed time. She needed to tell him that.

Nate seemed to understand her hesitation, and before she could respond he stated, "or we could just stay down here."

Vanessa nodded in agreement and they sat themselves on the deep, tile stairs that led to those buzzers and the apartment building's front door. She fidgeted slightly, trying to find comfort on the hard surface, letting the long fabric of her knitted sweater trail down her back, using it as a cushion. She pulled her knees up close to her form, her sneaker-clad feet touching Nate's unconsciously, her smile growing in the sunlight. Still, she knew what she had to do.

"What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he asked, in a mock English accent, making her laugh. "Twice in two days, someone might get the wrong idea."

His voice was still light in tone, but the second comment forced Vanessa's grin to fade. Nate caught her reaction, but said nothing.

"Did you talk to Blair?" she asked him, realizing their shoes were touching and slowly pulling her feet back.

"Not yet," he told her. "I was going to call her last night, but after our picture ended up on Gossip Girl I just couldn't do it." He sighed loudly. "I just don't know what she'll say."

"Not much, I think," Vanessa offered. Nate looked at her suspiciously. How did she know? "I saw Blair earlier. She didn't mention the pictures to me. Maybe she hasn't seen them."

"She has," Nate said and Vanessa knew he was right. "Maybe she just doesn't care."

He let his head fall slightly. Vanessa was unsure of what to say. Perhaps Blair didn't care that they were seen together again, perhaps she hadn't even suspected there was more going on. Perhaps Blair had given up on hiding her feelings for Chuck, and stringing Nate along.

"Did you really want to be with her?" Vanessa asked him.

Nate nodded his head yes, but he still wasn't sure if it was true. Vanessa picked up on the uneasy vibes he was sending out and asked again, "Do you really want to be with her, or are you willing to go to any lengths not to hurt her…or anyone again?"

Nate opened his mouth to say something, but quickly realized there was nothing to say. Vanessa knew it all already.

"Nate, you have to tell her what it is that you want," Vanessa said.

"And if I don't know what I want?" he questioned.

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders before allowing her feet to press into his once more, relaxing herself, letting herself look him in the eye.

"Then figure it," she told him flatly. It wasn't a harsh statement, just a truthful one.

"When did you get so wise?" Nate asked her. "If I recall just a day or so ago you were sleeping with the proverbial enemy."

"No! We never slept together," Vanessa protested, perking Nate's interest and perhaps making him a little happy in the process. "And I'm no longer involved in all that."

"Really?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yes. I know I've gone back to him before, I've made that mistake, but I'm done now," she told him.

Nate couldn't help but take a cue from her resolve.

"Me too," he said.

"What?"

"I'm done too," he told her. The look in his eye revealed what he truly meant to say.

"Are you gonna go to her?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, standing up. Vanessa followed, using Nate's offered hand to guide her from the steps. "Afterward do you want to maybe do something?"

"I won't," she said solemnly in return.

"You won't want to do something?" Nate questioned, confused.

Vanessa put her hands on his shoulders, turning him toward her. "I won't go there with you again."

"I know that," he told her, and Vanessa knew it was true.

"I just need some time," she responded.

"And then?"

"And then…yeah," she said smiling.

Nate put his hands on her shoulders as well, bowing his head to meet hers. "Well then Ms. Abrams, I look forward to the day when we can be friends."

"Real friends," she added.

"The best of friends," he told her.

Vanessa couldn't help herself and without warning she let her hands slide around his neck to pull him into a deep, tight hug. She held on for over a minute, savoring him, not knowing when she would see him again, not knowing when all the drama would die down. To her surprise and delight, Nate returned the embrace with just as much enthusiasm and care.

They stood like that, locked into one another, the sounds of the city muted around them until a voice broke through the silence.

"So much for being sorry," Blair said.

Vanessa and Nate released their hold on one another, as Vanessa let out "I can't take this anymore."

_I spy with my little eye a group of lovelorn teens, confused and heartbroken. With Nate, Vanessa, and Blair about to duke it out on the streets I certainly hope this news doesn't travel too fast, or before you know it Chuck Bass might be there too. Wait! Now that I think about it, I do want this news to travel fast. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	31. A Wish for Alcohol

_There are a only a few things a girl should never mess with, and one of them is some other girl's man. Alas, poor Vanessa and Blair haven't learned this lesson. Sad for them, excellent for us. XOXO, Gossip Girl_.

"Blair wait!" Nate Archibald called after his current girlfriend as she fled down the street. He looked over his shoulder to his companion, Vanessa Abrams, giving her a slight shrug. Vanessa wondered momentarily if Nate truly wanted to follow after Blair or if it was just instinct. Either way she held her hand up and swayed it forward, as if mentally pushing him on through the crowds and out of sight.

Standing alone in front of Nate's apartment building Vanessa felt uneasy. The talk they'd had and the decisions they'd made were for the best, she knew, but now she wanted to retreat back to the sanctuary of her loft, back to the nearly drama-free life she had before. Now she wanted to simply be Vanessa Abrams again.

If only there still wasn't the pesky problem of Chuck Bass.

Vanessa walked away from a life of luxury and descended down the steps toward the subway, the air of the cars passing by making her hair toss about, drying the newly-formed tears in her eyes. She was confused, truly she was, but she had made a promise to herself. A promise to forgive and forget. No matter how hard it seemed she had to walk away.

Standing on the platform, turning her feet in toward one another, staring down at her scuffed sneakers, she felt a hand on her shoulder and quickly turned around.

"Did you know you need exact change for this place? Unless you don't want your eighteen dollars back," Chuck said, giving a slight roll of his eyes, confused by the public transit system.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "And why would you give them a twenty?"

"Just tipping them for a job well done," he said sarcastically, throwing a look back to the transit employee standing by the turnstile. It was obvious from the stare the strange man shot back that these two had had heated words only moments before.

"Alright, but why are you here?' she asked again as the car pulled up to the platform.

"I told you I needed to talk," he returned.

"And I told you no."

"I believe you said 'not today'," Chuck offered as they both found themselves being pushed toward the car doors by hoards of soon-to-be passengers.

"Well, lucky for me it's still today, so I guess we'll have to do this tomorrow," she said, stepping onto the car, fully expecting him not to follow.

"It's tomorrow somewhere in the world," he replied and then stepped on after her.

As the doors closed Vanessa knew there was no escape.

Over a block away, after getting caught in the bustle of endless New York faces, Nate caught up with Blair Waldorf, standing on the corner, adjusting her signature headband while uselessly trying to dig her heels into the cement.

"Blair," Nate said. He was out of breath and sweating, hunched over with his hands on his knees. It was only a block, but he had run and pushed through so fast. Suddenly, Nate's head shot up to look at Blair, who was not out of breath and not drenched in sweat. He wondered how she got there before him without all the obvious side-effects.

"I don't want to talk to you," Blair said, her voice high, as if trying to scare him off with her words.

A few people craned their heads to look at them, but Nate didn't care. He didn't care about strangers or even Gossip Girl. He was too old and Blair was too important for the outside world to stand in his way.

"Well, we're gonna talk," he said forcefully, but there was no anger in his voice, just resolve. Blair couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement when he took her hand in his and pulled her back off the street corner to a café he had passed in his prior haste.

Blair wanted to pull away, but something about Nate's nature, his attitude, made her feel willing to stay. And something about what Vanessa had said made her feel obligated to be there. No one else should get hurt, Blair knew, least of all Nate.

Once they were seated, a non-fat, no-foam latte for her and a tall glass of water for him, Nate wiped the sweat off his brow using a paper napkin and got right to the heart of the issue.

"Are we breaking up?" he asked.

Blair looked stunned, her mouth open as if to respond but no words seemed able to escape.

"Blair?"

She closed her mouth; confusion and shock shook from her face. She knew it was coming, there was no point hiding how they both felt. So in response to his query Blair nodded her head up and down. It was a silent "yes".

"I thought so," Nate said taking a gulp of his water, cooling his body and his nerves.

"You did?" Blair questioned, already knowing the answer.

"You want to be with Chuck," he said matter-of-factly.

"No," Blair told him. "No, that's not it at all."

Nate looked up from his drink, his hands now covered in the water produced from the sweating glass. As he casually wiped them on the crumpled napkin, he wondered why he couldn't have been more properly dressed for the occasion, more prepared. Why wasn't he? He knew it was coming, right? He apparently, however, didn't know the reason.

"I…I…" Blair began, not quite sure how or where to start. Her feelings for them both were absolutely real. If she could run off and marry Nate and become an Archibald, a part of her knew that would be the best possible life. However, the other part struggled with the socialite image she had always craved for herself. This new part was filled with individuality and duality. It was Blair reborn.

She cleared her throat and took a simple sip of her latte before continuing. "I love you," she said, her eyes full of warmth, something not many people were privileged enough to see. "I love you, but I'm not in love with you anymore."

Nate took in the phrase, wrestled with the idea for a moment, the idea that someone could fall out of love with him, but he knew in his heart the same was true for him.

"It's not about Chuck, it's about us and what we mean to each other," she said solemnly.

"So when this is all over you and Chuck won't be together?" he asked curiously.

Blair smiled, her lips seemingly curled on each end, with mischief in her eyes. "I never said that."

Nate laughed, causing Blair's smile to form normality, her bright white teeth juxtaposed to her red lips. Nate liked seeing her that way, natural, real, the girl he knew when they were kids. The girl he fell in love with.

"Chuck and I are…."

"Dysfunctional," Nate finished.

"Excuse me, but I seem to recall you having a few dysfunctional unions. May I remind you about Catherine?"

"Hey, that was…." he began, but the look on Blair's face told him there was no squirming out of this one. "Yeah, it was pretty dysfunctional."

They laughed again. "Oh, and you and Serena," Blair started up again.

"If anything, _you _and Serena have a dysfunctional relationship. Ours was just…"

"Physical?" Blair interjected. Somehow the memory of what had happened between them, the knowledge of love triangles and affairs and hurt and pain washed from them as they sat at that table. It hardly meant that it was all forgotten, or even forgiven, but somehow they were able to laugh and joke about a past that had once haunted them. It felt like evolution.

"Sir Marcus?" Nate asked.

"What about him?"

"Carter?"

"That one's not really fair, is it?"

"And…"

"Chuck," she said, filling in the proverbial blank.

"Yeah, that guy," he smiled in response.

They sat for a moment, drinking their drinks and alternately looking at one another. Nate wondered why this was so easy for him, for them. When had breaking up ever been an occasion to laugh? He had begun to plan their lives, begun to make preparations for her to move in with him after graduation; he planned to bring her to ornate, public functions given his new internship in the Mayor's office; he even wanted to make love to her, to truly connect with her. But now, sitting at ease with her, Nate knew all those things were fantasies, fantasies that could be fulfilled with any girl, or more accurately the right girl. Blair Waldorf wasn't her. Maybe he hadn't found her yet.

Blair thought things were going too smoothly, they were too happy, too friendly for this to all be real. She was so used to drama, to pain, to tears, that she hardly recognized herself and others when none of that was present. Were she and Nate truly breaking up? Were they doing it so softly, so sanely? Were they going to become friends, real friends?

"So you and I are ok?" she asked tentatively, not sure, even after the humor and laughs, if they were truly capable of moving on.

"Yeah, we're ok," Nate told her, his eyes revealing the statement was true.

Blair smiled, another warm, gentle smile, the kind that grabbed at Nate's heart, but he knew the grip would soon loosen. He shook his head, his blond locks flying above his eyes, disbelief a wash on his face.

"What?" Blair questioned.

"Its just so strange. I feel as if I just has this conversation with Vanessa," he said. "Well, I sort of did just have this conversation with Vanessa."

"What do you mean?"

"About being friends instead of lovers," he said, not realizing the word 'lovers' had come out until it was too late. He momentarily worried that Blair would suspect him of having cheated on her, but Blair skipped quickly past the allusion, her mind focused on something else.

"Did you talk about Chuck?" Blair's curiosity, and perhaps her jealousy, had gotten the best of her. She hated asking, but it had to be done. After her talk with Vanessa, just a few hours earlier, she knew they both loved him. She knew things could go well for either of them, but that one would be left out in the cold. Blair wasn't ready to have it be her, no matter how independent she was trying to be.

"We talked about him too," Nate finally revealed, saying the words almost an exercise in torture. There existed a time when Nate couldn't imagine his life without Chuck in it. They were friends, brothers almost. They did everything together, said everything to one another, had each other's best interests at heart. And then the back seat of a limo took all that away. Still, somehow the past was fading from his memory, the apparent nefarious deeds done becoming mere stepping-stones to the present. He and Chuck were no longer best friends, but maybe he and Blair could salvage their relationship and move on. The first part of that plan would be honesty.

"She likes him," Nate told her, honestly.

"She loves him," Blair returned, her head low, her eyes closed, as if trying to shield her mind from images of Vanessa and Chuck together. Looking back up, inhaling deep, she continued, "or at least she thinks she does."

"Who are we to say what's real and what isn't?"

Blair smiled, "oh I have lots to say on the matter."

Nate took Blair's hand in his own, rubbing her soft pale skin with his thumb. Using his most reassuring voice he said, "I think you should leave this be. Vanessa and I talked; we apologized to one another, if you can believe that. She seems better now, more sure of herself. I don't think you should tamper with that."

Blair pulled her hand away quickly. "And what about me, Nate? Do I seem better now, because I feel awful? I feel like this is my chance to get something I want and I won't, I can't, mess it up this time."

"One of you will be with him and one of you won't. Or you both won't. Either way people are gonna get hurt. Wouldn't it be nice to not be the reason for that pain? To just let things be as they'll be?" Nate asked, thinking of her safety, the safety of her heart. If she ran off after Chuck, if Vanessa ran off after Chuck, nothing good would come of it he suspected. Chuck Bass needed to make up his mind first. Chuck Bass needed to get a clue.

"I can't sit back any longer," she told him.

Nate scoffed at the statement. "Any longer? Blair, I mean…." He began his rebuttal, but Blair continued on.

"This year I lost Yale, Chuck, you, even Serena for a time. This year I lost my future Nate. I have to go get it back."

"Blair, this year you and your mom got closer, you gained a step-dad, you learned how to stand on your own without being the Queen B., and you fought your way into NYU. Blair this year was not a total wash. This year you became something amazing."

Blair felt the water well up in her eyes, but she held it back. How could they have not been friends, real friends, for so long? How did they not talk like this when they were together? How could they both have been so blind?

"Nate…I…you," she stumbled on her words.

"Your welcome," he said sweetly.

"Thank you," she replied through her smile.

Blair stood up, pulling her purse over her shoulder and tossing the remainder of her latte into the trash. She stood over a still sitting Nate and bent down, bringing her arms around his neck and shoulders. Blair let her lips find his hair and kissed the top of his head, keenly aware that she was smelling his shampoo so intimately, for perhaps the last time. Nate let his arms reach up and hug her form, his hands in a precarious backward position as she loomed over him, but still gripping at her tight. They stayed like that for only a moment, leaving an impression of themselves on one another, before Blair released her hold and her lips, preparing to leave.

Nate called after her, "You aren't going to take my advice are you?"

Blair turned around, looking him straight in the eye, realizing honesty to be the only element that would allow their new-found friendship to survive. "No," she said. "I'm going to do what I always do. I'm going to get what I want."

Nate sighed in response, but then helplessly grinned anyway. He knew Blair Waldorf was capable of getting her way. He knew she didn't need his advice, his help, or his worry. As he nodded his head to her, a silent acceptance of her plan, Blair walked out of the café and out of sight.

Given what the day had brought him, a resolution with both Vanessa and Blair, Nate craved to continue. Although both were different, with him saying goodbyes of varying degrees, Nate knew in the end they would all be the better for it. One day he and Vanessa would find their way back to being friends. The kind of friends who could watch black and white movies together or go see a basketball game; the kind of friends who could discuss Upton Sinclair or ESPN; the kind of friends whose difference would only make their bond stronger. In time they would heal.

He and Blair, on the other hand, were at that place already, although their differences were less diverse. He had just had a conversation with her about Chuck. He could barely believe it, barely believe he had let her walk away to be with him, more than once in their long history. Still, somehow he felt at ease with his decision. Blair was right, the future they all once had in mind for themselves had changed, but perhaps for the better.

Using the resolve he found in both women Nate pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed the familiar number.

When voicemail picked up he began, "Hey man. It's just me. I think we need to talk."

As Nate closed his phone shut he wondered why his old friend hadn't answered. Were things that bad between them?

Chuck's cell phone vibrated in his blazer pocket. As he pulled out the device the screen revealed to him that he had missed a call, a call from Nate. However, stuck underground in a darkened and dead subway car, frozen in the midst of a blackout, there was no phone reception, no viable connection available to allow him to call Nate back. Suddenly, he really wished he had a scotch.

Yet, Chuck would have to wait it out. Wait it out with Vanessa at his side.

_Spotted: Nate Archibald and the soon to be ex-Queen B. sipping coffee at a local café. Now if only we knew what they were talking about. Yet, something tells me it wasn't a reunion since B. took off without her knight. Who needs her, right Nate? You can always get Vanessa back….oh no, I forgot, you can't. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	32. A Plea for Alcohol

_You know there's something wrong when Chuck Bass is spotted entering a New York subway station. There's something intriguing, however, when one realizes he does so only a few minutes after a certain Brooklynite. Given the blackout that has seized part of the city, not including the location of yours truly, I wonder: how claustrophobic is a Bass? XOXO, Gossip Girl._

After a minute of complete darkness, hearing only the loud breaths of passengers, the anxious, scared sounds of their small yet frightened fidgeting, the emergency lights flickered on. The greenish-yellow tinge they cast upon the people in the cramped car made everyone appear sickly, tired, and run down. Standing under those lights many people let their shoulders fall, as if a tiny element of ease was creeping its was back into their existence, as if the light would make everything alright. There were, however, a few passengers at the back of the car complaining, their voices becoming increasingly loud and angry.

The speaker suddenly shrieked to life and a voice could be heard informing all passengers of a blackout, a blackout that was affecting the city above and below ground. According to the transit worker the darkening of their surroundings only existed for twenty or thirty blocks, affecting their particular location and that of the subway system's power source. According to the transit worker there were people working on the situation, people trying to resolve the problem. According to the transit worker they would all have to stay put and wait it out.

Chuck Bass had already suspected as much.

Vanessa Abrams was seated to his right, not in one of the many subway seats that were all presently occupied, but on the cold steel floor. As she had crouched down to find a comfortable place for herself, many others followed suit, each carving out a space of their own, realizing they may be there for quite some time. Chuck, however, remained standing, at least until Vanessa pulled on his pant leg.

Looking down at her, those big blue eyes staring into his own, he couldn't help but want to sit next to her, he almost felt compelled to do so. Chuck pulled at the fabric of his pants to give himself more room in the thigh and then crouched down to Vanessa's level. Once he was close enough Chuck slide onto his backside and nestled himself in close to her, not truly out of need or want, but because there existed so little room for him to maneuver any other way. Sitting next to her, their bodies touching, hip-to-hip, Chuck let his arm slide around her shoulders and watched as she eased into him.

The emergency lights sputtered in and out of service above them, causing the passengers to sigh and even squeal in despair and fear each time they went out. Vanessa though, did not seem overly worried. She was a subway rider, had been her whole life, and while a blackout aboard the car was a new experience to her, a jam in the system was not. Once she sat for over an hour on a stopped car, stuck between two stations underground. Thankfully she had had her ipod. This time she had Chuck.

"Are you ok?" she asked him. The situation had softened her mood, making her less combative toward him. She had been angry with him, perhaps still was, but it was difficult to be mad at him when so much else was going on. She had also been angry with herself, angry that once again she allowed herself to be pulled into Chuck's game, this time as a willing participant. Vanessa hadn't wanted to speak to Chuck because she finally wanted out.

"Are you?" Chuck asked, ignoring any concern Vanessa may have for him. It wasn't that her care was lost on him or that he didn't appreciate it, but Chuck was actively trying to be the man of the situation, to be the type of person little people thought he was capable of being. Vanessa had told him only that morning that she hated him. Whether she truly meant it or not was still to be seen, but no matter the truth the words burned deep into him and set him ablaze.

Vanessa only nodded in response to Chuck's question; she wasn't sure where her words had gone. She wanted to tell him everything. That night in the loft with Jenny and Dan, the night she swore she would lie no longer, that she would let honesty guide her way, that night had never truly come to fruition, because Vanessa hadn't let it. Instead of following her own rationale she stupidly followed her lust, and had run after Chuck and right into another of his schemes. Sitting in the dim, flicking light of the stalled subway Vanessa shook her head just thinking about those past actions. She shook her head, but it did nothing to make the past disappear. She wanted to tell Chuck everything, she just didn't know how.

Chuck took in Vanessa's silent reply and then turned his body slightly away from her. They were still touching, his arm still around her shoulders, but he was now looking out at the rest of the car. The passengers among them were talking to one another, telling a joke here and there, trying to keep any unpleasant lingering thoughts at bay. One passenger, a young man with a backpack and giant, neon green headphones, reached inside his bag and then took off his set, allowing music to gently flow through the car. Suddenly, things no longer seemed so bad. There were still the two men in the back, the two who were complaining, but the rest of the car seemed to drown them out. Chuck could barely hear them now.

He did however notice a couple of girls looking at him. They were sophisticatedly dressed, their feet heel clad and their hair pulled back in headbands adorned with flowers. Chuck knew immediately who they were followers of and why they were staring. He sighed, but it went unnoticed by Vanessa, and turned his head from the girls hoping they would stop looking. It only made them whisper and giggle and point.

"Do you know them?" Vanessa asked pointedly, leaning in to murmur the question in Chuck's ear so as not to arouse the curiosity of others.

Chuck closed his eyes tight, hoping he hadn't just heard her correctly, but knowing he had. How could Vanessa not know who they were, or more accurately whom they represented? Did she think he had slept with that many women or women that young?

"I think they're Gossip Girl lackeys," he stated, his voice not hushed; in fact it was overly loud. He was trying to get their attention, trying to let them know that they had been found out and that they should stare elsewhere. "I hate wannabes."

Both girls brought their eyes to him, a cold, narrow look of hatred flashed upon Chuck.

"Excuse me?" one of the girls said from across the car. They were sitting on the opposite side of Vanessa and Chuck, in seats, despite the fact that an elderly lady was sitting on the hard steel floor. Even Chuck had a problem with that.

Chuck failed to respond to the girls, hoping that if he shot a look back, a careless, 'you mean nothing to me' gaze they would let it be. He sorely underestimated their resolve, their passion, and their apparent muse.

As the one girl stood up, revealing her full outfit, a long, bright red trench open and barely covering a short black skirt and white collared, ruffled blouse, Chuck suddenly understood. Looking to the other girl, wearing a lace and metallic dress that seemed shockingly similar to one he had spotted on Thanksgiving past, it became obvious to him that they were Blair Waldorf groupies.

"If anyone's a wannabe its you," the one standing up said smartly, shaking her head and hips as she spoke. "A burrow trolling wannabe at that."

As she released her retort, both girls looked down at Vanessa and smirked. It took the dark haired beauty a moment to realize what they meant, that she was the type of girl who would be trolled for, a dirty, perhaps easy girl. Vanessa took offense and opened her mouth to respond but the girls started up again.

"I mean, who would want _that_ when they could have Blair Waldorf?" the standing one said, blatantly pointing at Vanessa. Apparently she was the Queen B. of the duo.

"I normally don't fight with children, but I think you've said enough," Chuck informed them.

The girls looked at one another and began to mockingly quiver in fear. "Oh, we are so afraid," Red Trench said sarcastically. "What are you gonna do? Hire someone to beat us up? Seduce us and then leave us? Be rude? Get drunk?" They laughed to themselves. "Yeah, we're really scared."

Chuck looked at Vanessa, shocked at what was happening. He seemed so out of his element, sitting underground, sitting on the ground, and being debased by a couple of fifteen year olds. What was going on?

"Dan's gotten a few of these," Vanessa told Chuck, trying to reassure him that the situation wasn't that bad or that embarrassing, although she wasn't sure he would survive with his Gossip Girl reputation in tack.

"Great. Now I share something else with Humphrey," he said snidely looking at Vanessa. He quickly looked away when he realized what his words alluded to.

"You know you broke her heart, right?" Red Trench went on.

"Are you still talking?" Chuck asked, so irritated and angry.

"You broke her," she continued, her voice high and aggressive, until her friend interrupted.

"I don't think you should say that," Metallic Dress said softly. "I mean, it kinda makes it sound like she's weak."

Red Trench turned to face her friend. "She's not weak."

"I know, but you're making her sound that way."

"So what do I say? He hurt her, instead of broke her?"

Metallic Dress nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah that works for me."

Red Trench turned back to face Chuck and spoke up once more, as if the exchange only seconds before had not taken place. "You really hurt her."

"Yeah," Metallic Dress seconded.

"Are you kidding me?" Vanessa asked, leaning her head back to rest on Chuck's arm, but no longer finding it there.

"I think you should keep your opinions to yourself," Chuck told them, using his hands to emphasize the importance of his statement.

"Whose Blair?" someone suddenly asked.

All four of them, the two girls, Chuck, and Vanessa craned their heads toward the back of the car where the men that had once been complaining were standing. Now one of them was eavesdropping and the other actively trying to insert himself into their present conversation.

"Whose Blair?" the man asked again.

Chuck was about to tell the man to mind his business, to stay in his part of the car and keep his mouth shut. Chuck was about to stand up and shout, but Red Trench stopped him.

"She's this totally beautiful girl…"

"Woman," Metallic Dress corrected.

"Woman…right, who is perfect for him," she pointed at Chuck, but kept her eyes on the man at the back. "But for some reason this…"

"Jackass," Metallic Dress offered.

Red Trench seemed taken aback by the comment, but she shrugged and went with it anyway. "This jackass keeps screwing her around."

"Why?" the man asked as Chuck finally stood up.

"In my own defense, I don't know these girls, they don't know me, or her," he said pointing to Vanessa, "or Blair. These girls are just a couple of cyber stalkers, leering in on the lives they wished they had."

The car seemed silent for a moment. Even the young man with the music had turned it down in order to hear the exchange better. All eyes were on Chuck.

"But why?" the man asked again.

"This is ridiculous," Chuck said, frustratingly. "How do we get off this damn thing?"

He began to attempt to step over people, making his way to the sliding doors. He wasn't sure what he would do once he got there, thinking it was probably out of the realm of possibility that his credit card could pry it open, but he pushed on anyway. As he reached the doors, his hands flying forward, touching the cold, dark steel, Chuck heard a voice behind him, calling out to him.

"I think you should answer the question."

Turning around Chuck found Vanessa, also standing, surrounded by the other seated passengers of the car.

"What are you doing?" Chuck asked her.

"You said you wanted to talk and I think if we talk about anything it should be this," Vanessa said soundly. Chuck could tell she had made up her mind. "I think you should answer the question."

A chorus of "yeah" and "come ons" rung out from the crowd around him, obviously proving they sided with Vanessa.

"I'm not doing this here," he said turning back to the door, as if it would open just because he wished it to.

"I think you owe us an explanation," Red Trench said.

Before Chuck could respond, Vanessa did it for him. "Shut up and sit down." She said it with such force, something brewing behind her piercing eyes, that the girl couldn't help but follow orders. Vanessa wondered if she was afraid of her. Probably, given that they had surely never met a burrow girl. "Not there," Vanessa continued, pointing to the seat and then to the elderly lady on the floor. Red Trench understood and got up, allowing Vanessa to help the old woman off the ground and into the now vacant seat.

As Chuck watched her, watched Vanessa carry herself, expose her strength and compassion, he couldn't help but smile. She caught him staring and raised her eyebrow, something she hardly ever did so the slight move did take effect. Suddenly he felt bare before her, wondering if she could see through him, within him. Did she know what he truly thought and felt? Did she know who he wanted?

"So lets have it Bass," she said through a smile.

"This isn't you," he told her. "You're not like this."

"Like what?"

"Like this…so assertive." As soon as he said it he regretted it. She was assertive and to suggest otherwise was an insult, he knew. He felt the eyes on him dig deeper, stare harder, perhaps even with the intent to hurt him. How could they not side with Vanessa over him? She was beautiful and warm. He was complaining and cold. He was calling her names and all she wanted was answers.

"Does anyone have a drink?" Chuck asked, already knowing the answer. He looked to the men in the back. "I mean, somebody has to have a flask somewhere."

"I'm bored," Red Trench said from her spot on the floor, her feet tucked underneath her so as not to flash her lower skin to the occupants of the car. She kept pulling on her hair, tugging the loose curls straight and then watching them coil back up. She kept fidgeting at Vanessa's feet.

"Sorry we can't be more entertaining," Chuck said sarcastically.

"Don't worry about it," she told him without a hint of irony. "I wasn't expecting much."

"You have some nerve," he began.

"You have some nerve," Vanessa interrupted. Chuck looked at her wide-eyed, mouth agape. "You want to talk, clear the air, then lets have it Chuck; because if history has taught me anything you rarely say what you mean or mean what you say. Maybe this is the only way I'll get some truth out of you."

"Out of me?" he asked incredulously. "I told you what I wanted to do, told you the plan. If anyone lied it was you."

"No Chuck. Wrong again," she said defiantly. "You told me you wanted Blair back, not that you wanted to hurt her."

At Vanessa's revelation almost everyone in the car perked up and turned their heads to Chuck. The girls seemed to be taking mental notes, their cell phones not working stuck underground. They had to remember every detail if they wanted to accurately spill the story later.

"I told you it was the natural order. I told you people like her end up with people like me," he corrected. "I told you what you needed to know. You're the one that put all the pieces into place. You played your part in any hurt she may have felt and you know it."

The passengers suddenly all turned to look at Vanessa, their craning heads moving in unison.

"I played the role you cast me in!"

Chuck let out a loud scoffing noise; his head tilting back as if to symbolize his disbelief in her statement. As he did so the faces turned back to him. Chuck tried to ignore the prying eyes, but the pressure they put on him was becoming overwhelming. He acutely understood that he was on the defensive, meant to uphold his past actions in the face of scrutinizing eyes.

"Why?" he suddenly asked, his voice growing louder. "Why did you tag along with me if you didn't believe in it all?"

"Because you asked me to!"

"No. You offered."

"It's the same thing Chuck. It's all been the same thing," Vanessa said. She was becoming increasingly put off by the eyes turning back and forth between herself and Chuck, put off by the moment she had unwittingly cultivated.

"I wanted to tell you how I felt, but…." he began, but then stopped. His voice captured in his throat. He couldn't defend himself any longer.

"You….you…" she was flustered and frustrated and confused. How had she gotten into a shouting match with him? How had she done so in the middle of a broken down subway car? She knew she should have calculated her moves better, but she had never been good at chess. All Vanessa had wanted was answers. Perhaps it was all she ever wanted.

"You asked for it," Chuck let out, not truly meaning to say it, not expecting the look of hurt to overtake her face. It quickly disappeared.

Vanessa was startled by his words. Had she asked for it? Had she asked for all the pain, all the confusion, or all the time spent and wasted on a relationship that never truly existed?

"I never asked to fall in love with you."

The words shot out of her mouth before she could cup them back in. They floated through the atmosphere and moved about the car all the way to Chuck's waiting ears. There was no way to take it back now.

The two girls immediately found themselves on their feet, standing just inches behind Vanessa, staring at her and between one another, the shock playing constantly on their individual faces. Everyone else, the man with the music, the elderly woman, and the two complainers in the back, also found themselves shocked. They didn't even know Chuck and Vanessa, and didn't truly understand their story, yet they were inexplicably intrigued. Perhaps because trapped below the surface of the city there was little to do but get caught up in a teenage love triangle.

Suddenly the lights came back to life, casting the car in fluorescents that were no longer the color green. Vanessa's face was lit from above, allowing Chuck to plainly see the water pooled in her eyes. She blinked it back quickly, but she knew he had seen. Looking at his face, Vanessa thought she too caught a glimpse of hurt eyes, not watery but sad and still. They watched one another for only a moment, as if the whole of the subway car had vanished around them.

Just as people began to look about, began to come back to the situation at hand, the car lurched forward without warning, sending some passengers barreling into one another. A collective cry escaped the passengers, a cry of fear for the unexpected movement of the car, but then a cry of joy. Some passengers even applauded. As they all got back to their feet, Chuck's view of Vanessa was restricted, various faces blocking his sight line. He tilted his head from side to side, trying to improve his view, trying to get a glimpse of her, but it was all to no avail.

The car found its way to the next stop and as the doors opened everyone filled out, regardless of their original destination. They all wanted to be above ground. Chuck felt his body being pushed out with them, having been standing directly in front of the sliding doors and perhaps blocking their exit with his persistent attempts to find Vanessa.

Once on the platform, the people brushing past him, Chuck knew he wouldn't find her. She had slipped away in the crowd. Taking his cell phone out of hiding, preparing to call for his personal car, Chuck turned around and came face to face with Red Trench and Metallic Dress.

"Smile," they said in unison, before both taking pictures of him with their now functioning camera phones. They then turned on their heels, long hair whipping in his face, before making their exit.

Chuck could only imagine how those images would be used.

Vanessa curled up into the softness of the lone chair that stood solitary in her loft. She grabbed at the blanket which lay on the floor at her feet and pulled it up over her body. She wanted to stay there forever, hidden from sight, hoping the blanket would shield her from the world outside. However, she knew her plan was an impossible one and in that knowledge she couldn't quell her curiosity any longer.

Reaching down again Vanessa picked up her laptop, and against her better judgment brought up Gossip Girl's blog. There on her home page was a picture of Chuck, standing on the subway platform, the pain in his eyes almost tangible. He looked weak and worn down. He looked like he had heard the worst news a man could hear. Vanessa knew, staring at his picture, that hers was to be an unrequited love. She had suspected it all along.

The caption read: _So he can feel_.

In a moment of haste, a moment of swirling emotions and blinding inner pain, Vanessa hurled her laptop across the room. It flew through the air, crashing to the hardwood floor in a dizzying array of crunching sounds and broken pieces.

Looking at the mess, watching a spark flicker from inside the contraption, Vanessa felt worse. She hadn't thought it possible.


	33. A Drink on the Rocks

_A good love triangle is just what the doctor ordered and now we now for sure it is love we're dealing with. Sources tell me poor V. opened her heart to Chuck Bass. Even I could have told her that was a bad idea, but then we wouldn't get pictures of Bass all bruised, on the inside of course. Now it's only a matter of time before the Queen B. herself throws her designer hat into the ring. But first….graduation. Ohhh. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

The air smelled of sweat and sex, not overpoweringly so, but for those with a swift nose and delicate palate it was easy to comprehend what went on behind the velvet curtain. The were two women, both thin, both with flowing long hair, one blond, one brunette, standing on a circular stage that was lit from beneath. Both women were nearly naked. The were dancing and swaying and twirling, periodically lifting themselves off the ground using a strategically placed metal pole, helping their parts deify gravity.

Around the club, a dark, smoky, silky environment, women were walking about dressed in thigh high stockings and garter belts, corsets and lace gloves. They were carrying old-fashioned cigarette boxes, filled with cigars from all over the world. They were carrying trays with complimentary glasses of champagne atop them. They were practically nude, but somehow in an up-class way. They were the strip club of the future, a future Chuck Bass was secretly investing in.

He sat in a high back booth near the far left wall, drinking a scotch on the rocks, not his usual choice but in such a heated environment something needed to keep the alcohol cold. He looked about from girl to girl, from blonde to brunette and even red, but he was only partly interested, and not nearly excited enough to take advantage of the dim setting his booth found itself in. Just as he took the last swig of his drink, the long seat moved, a body coming to sit next to him. Chuck wondered if he had any twenties in his billfold, before turning to the presence beside him. He nearly jumped back.

"Nice to see you too," Nate Archibald said. He was wearing a large sweatshirt with the words "Jim's Rib Joint" plastered across the front and a baseball cap informing everyone of his support for the Giants.

"I thought good old granddad was paying for things now. I guess I thought wrong," Chuck said taking in Nate's new look.

Nate smiled and shook his head. "He is. And he's also got me an internship in the mayor's office, which starts in a week," he told him, looking around over his shoulder, as if he was being followed by paparazzi. "So I probably shouldn't been seen I a place like this."

"I'll have you know these girls are very good at what they do," Chuck assured him, pointing to the stage and the blonde. "That one's a trained dancer. Ballet I think."

As soon as the words left his mouth the blonde straddled the pole, lifted herself up and then upside down, spreading her legs wide. Needless to say she was no longer wearing any underwear. Nate quickly turned his head away, feeling as if he was somehow invading the women's privacy.

"I think we should get out of here," Nate told Chuck, taking hold of his arm and attempting to pull him out from behind the table at the booth.

Chuck wretched his arm away. Nate wondered if it was the situation, the place, the booze, or him. Their friendship had been rocky, yes, but Nate was making an effort, making _the_ effort to change all that.

"Chuck, tomorrow is graduation. After that none of this is going to matter," Nate said.

"That's where you're wrong Nathaniel. This," he said waving his hand to encompass the whole of the club, "will always matter."

"This," Nate said doing the same, "is not what I was referring too."

Chuck looked at his drink, watching the ice cubes melt at the bottom of the glass, watching water form. He wondered what he was doing, what it was that he was trying to accomplish. He wondered, thought hard, but no new ideas came. It was probably because before Nate had arrived Chuck has consumed five drinks. Now he was thinking about another.

"Waitress!" Chuck called from his spot at the booth, even raising his hand to signal his need for alcohol.

Nate quickly pushed his hand down. "Come on man. Let me take you home."

As the next set of performers came on to the stage, a spotlight shone on them. Both were thin, one brown haired, long and loose, one dark brown haired, with tight wild curls. They were both holding hands, smiling seductively. And they were both nearly naked. They were a reminder, too much of a reminder. Chuck had had enough.

"Let's go," Chuck agreed, sliding out of the booth and walking away from the stage with Nate by his side. "But when we get to my car can you take that crap off? You like a homeless man."

"Where do you think I got the clothes?" Nate joked.

The sun rose on the city of New York, casting its citizens in immeasurable light. At Constance Billard and St. Jude's the graduation preparations were underway, uniting the classes, uniting the sexes, for the last time in high school. Green caps and gowns laid out for the girls and blue laid out for the boys. Diplomas with calligraphy written names adorned on them sat waiting in a basket at the front of the room. Teachers and staff anxiously awaited the students' arrival, as with many Upper East Siders there was usually something to be anxious about.

"You look like hell," Dan Humphrey said as he walked into his best friend's loft, holding two Starbucks cups, one atop the other. He used his free hand to close the large door behind him, before following an unkempt Vanessa Abrams into the sparse space.

He was wearing a suit, his tie slightly crocked, as if he had gotten dressed in the dark. It was clear he had rushed over to check up on Vanessa before heading off somewhere else. A part of her resented that, but since he had been the only person to stop by or call, including her nowhere to be found family, Vanessa wasn't about to complain.

"What's going on in the world?" she asked while curling back up on the chair.

"You'd know if you'd been out there in the past week," Dan told her sternly. He hated to see her this way, alone and isolated and upset. Scanning the room he caught sight of the mangled laptop across the floor, but he kept his thoughts on that topic to himself.

"I'm taking a respite," Vanessa finally let out.

"From life?"

"From that life."

"Great. I am totally in favor of that. And with graduation today, maybe I'll take a respite too. But for now I think you need a coffee," he said passing her the extra cup he'd brought. "And perhaps a shower."

Vanessa took the cup and then looked up at him, giving Dan her best fake smile.

"That a girl," he mockingly returned.

Finding his way to the kitchen island, he jumped up on the counter to make himself comfortable like so many had before him. Vanessa really needed some new furniture.

"People are worried about you," he said, but Vanessa only scoffed in response. "No, seriously. Jenny. My dad." Dan paused, trying to think of someone else who had asked about her whereabouts and well-being. Scanning his brain for that sort of information sorely underestimated what he was trying to accomplish by visiting her and he knew she was beginning to resent him for coming over. "Oh, and Serena," he suddenly remembered.

Vanessa nodded her head at the last bit. It was comforting to know that someone else, someone besides those she considered family, had noticed her absence, yet there was a name, or a few names left off Dan's list. Names she would have liked to have heard.

"They want to know what's going on with you," he told her.

Vanessa nodded her head again.

"That's it?" Dan asked. "You're not going to say anything?"

"It's all been said," Vanessa told him grimly.

"V. come on. I hate this. I mean why put yourself through this?" Dan questioned, his voice full of concern. "Chuck Bass is not worth it."

"I know," Vanessa told him soundly. "I think I always knew."

"So then lets forget this, or at the very least push it aside for now. Move on Vanessa. He has."

Vanessa pretended not to hear, got up out of the chair, and stalked toward the bathroom. A few moments later Dan heard the shower turn on, the noise of running water muffling the noise of her tears. He left her a note, stating he hoped to see her at or after graduation, as his guest of course, and then quickly headed out the door back into the New York sun.

The room was covered in clothing, dresses and skirts and blouses strewn all over. Articles were covering the bed, the floor, the dresser, even the full-length standing mirror. The room was a kaleidoscopic of color, not all color, just the season's latest pastels, solids, and muted patterns.

Walking tentatively into the wading mess she jumped back suddenly, having stepped on something hard and rough. Kicking away some of the clothes she saw a single Louboutin pump, black with the signature red bottom. Serena van der Woodsen kicked it aside and continued on toward the adjoining bathroom. Before she made her way in a frantic figure came barreling out of the door.

"Can you believe I have nothing to wear?" Blair Waldorf asked, although Serena knew it was not the type of question that needed answering. Looking around at the room she suspected Blair had lots to wear.

"I thought we were going to breakfast? You know, celebrate the big day," Serena said, brushing some blouses off the edge of the bed and taking a seat there.

Blair looked over at her friend, who was wearing a floor length, bright blue dress, the bodice crisscrossing her chest. Serena's locks were loose and falling gently over her shoulders. Blair suddenly hated her friend's figure, her statuesque beauty and the effortlessness of her look.

As if Serena could read her mind, she said "you look great. You'll look great in anything."

"I know," Blair responded rather matter-of-factly.

"Then what's the problem?"

Blair stopped among the mess, holding a light blue cashmere cardigan in one hand and a black dress with a yellow and pick flowered bodice in the other. She shook them, as if to signal to Serena that it was time for her to make a decision.

"Those ones. Perfect," Serena said in response as Blair fled to the bathroom to change. She kept the door open so the two could still talk.

"Today's the day S." Blair told her from the other room.

"Today?" Serena questioned, knowing she had heard that before.

"Today."

"Are you sure? I mean, its graduation. It's our last high school moment. Maybe you should wait until…."

"I'm tired of waiting. I stupidly took Nate's advice, I waited this whole week and nothing happened. I knew I should have gone with my instincts, I told him I would but I didn't," Blair said. Serena could hear her zipping up the dress.

"Your instincts or bitch-stincts," Serena asked, laughing at her own joke. She fell back on the bed, finding herself enveloped in silk and lace and satin.

"I don't think it's bitchy to tell someone how you feel," Blair responded.

"Is it if you know someone else will get hurt?"

"Look," Blair poked her head out of the bathroom, her body still firmly inside the other room. The action made Serena roll to her side, resting herself on her elbow. "I know you and barista-girl have a friendship, or whatever, but I'm not going to hold myself back because of her any longer."

"Ok, first of all, you've never held yourself back, and if you have it wasn't because of Vanessa," Serena informed her as Blair swiftly moved back inside the bathroom, the sound of makeup compacts opening and closing wafting into the air. "Second of all, yes we're friends and you would be too if you got to know her."

Blair exited the bathroom, fully dressed, her hair partially pulled back by a yellow headband. She searched her dresser top until she found a long sting of oversized pearls and draped them over her outfit. Once finished she said, "I will never be her friend. And for the record she told him first. What kind of person does that?"

"For the record, you told him first and you know it. She told him last," Serena said, getting up off the bed, ready to go.

"Well then, I'll tell him last," Blair let out firmly, almost wickedly.

Serena couldn't help but smile. "Today?"

"Today I tell Chuck Bass I love him."

With that Blair exited her room and descended the stairs. Serena followed after her, feeling like they had done this all before.

Dan thought the entirety of the Class of 2009's graduation ceremony was actually progressing very anti-climatically. There were no shouting matches or cat-fights or bloodshed. In fact, as he walked about the room before and after he started to think he wouldn't miss it at all. The drama, the lies, the constant need to feel validated by others; all of it was pointless now that high school was done.

Serena thought things couldn't get any worse. Eleanor and Cyrus talking to Rufus and Lily. With all that was going on with her friends, she had almost forgotten to think about her and Dan's parents as a couple. She wondered how long it would last. Watching them sitting awkwardly together, only a few rows behind her, Serena let her eyes drift over to Chuck and then to her best friend Blair. Love was painful. She didn't need a high school diploma to prove she'd learned that.

Nate thought his life was finally starting. No more excess of evils, no more cops or the FBI, no more fighting with his family. Once he had that piece of paper in his hand it would all be no more. An internship with the mayor was exactly what he needed, but as Vanessa walked in, finding a seat with Jenny and Eric in the back he wondered, for just a moment, what backpacking through Europe would have been like. Then he let that go too.

Chuck thought she was going to tell him. They were outside in the courtyard, he was looking devastatingly handsome, as per usual, and she had those wild eyes he had come to adore. He thought she would profess her love for him, take him into her arms and never let go. He thought wrong.

Blair thought she was going to tell him, but when the moment fell upon her she just couldn't. He looked so smug, so calm, making her eyes fill with doubt and even rage. How could he have let Vanessa love him? How could he have lured her in like that? It had to be his fault, she thought, because if it was his fault then she too had someone to blame for her own breaking heart.

Suddenly, mid-ceremony, the whole of the room filled with beeps and rings, whistles and bells as all the students' cell phones and Blackberrys lit up with delight. Reaching collectively into their purses and pockets the Class of 2009 was presented with a final parting gift from Gossip Girl. Chuck, it said, was a "coward", Blair was "weak", Dan was an "insider", and Nate was the "class whore". After the blast dissipated from their screens the eyes of the room fluttered around, looking at the targeted four and then finally onto Serena who was now officially "irrelevant".

"Well, at least she spelled my name right," Dan said while he was walking out of the ceremony with Vanessa, Jenny, and Serena.

"This is it," Serena said. "Gossip Girl has to go down."

"For what?" Vanessa asked.

"For this," Serena informed her, holding up her cell phone. "For all of this. This was the last straw."

"Look, I don't want to be rude, and we certainly know Gossip Girl has been on my tail for quite some time now, but its not like what she said was…."

"Wrong," Jenny let out, thinking Vanessa may not have had the stomach to continue.

"What?" Serena asked, stunned by their reactions.

"Come on Serena. You said you wanted it all to be over with and now Gossip Girl is calling you "irrelevant"," Dan told her, taking off his ridiculous cap and gown and returning them to the staff member from which them came. "If this isn't a reason to be happy I don't know what is."

"Dan, she called you an "insider"," Serena said, whispering it to him so as not to embarrass him further.

"Maybe I was," he replied. "And now I don't have to be anymore."

He began to walk away just as Chuck, Blair, Nate, and Eric appeared behind the group.

Serena called after Dan, "I can't believe you!"

"What's going on?" Chuck asked.

"Nothing," Serena fumed. "Just some people who don't want to defend their reputations."

"That's not what we're saying Serena," Vanessa let out, trying to protect Dan and his point of view. "But can you honestly tell me those blasts were wrong?"

"You really don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?" Blair asked heatedly, but as she went to step forward Chuck caught her arm and pulled her back. It was a swift, simple move, but it left a lingering feeling in both Blair and Vanessa. Who was it that _he_ was trying to protect?

"Have you told him?" Vanessa suddenly asked, her question directed to Blair.

Blair didn't respond.

"Because if you haven't it makes you weak," she continued. "And have you opened up, really opened up to anyone. Have you accepted what she or I would tell, would give you? Because if you haven't it make you a coward," Vanessa finished, the last part directed to Chuck.

She then looked over at Nate and shrugged her shoulders. He could only do that same in reply.

Then Vanessa walked after Dan, with Jenny helplessly in tow. When they reached the corner they heard a voice calling out from behind them.

"Vanessa wait!" It was Serena. Jenny took her cue and continued on, taking a curious Dan with her.

Vanessa turned around and sheepishly said, "I'm sorry Serena, but someone had to say it."

Serena let out a large breath and then smiled. "It's not that. They already knew that. Whatever Blair and Chuck decide to say to each other….well, who can tell, right?"

Vanessa's looked changed from apologetic to confused.

"I'm going to find her, or him. I'm going to get Gossip Girl."

Vanessa opened her mouth to protest, or to at least tell Serena she thought it all to be a waste of time, but the blonde cut her off.

"And I wanted to let you know is that when I do, all bets are off. Who knows what secrets Gossip Girl has. What secrets she has on you," Serena looked Vanessa dead in the eye. "So if there's something you want to tell someone before this all goes down, I think you should do it now."

"Are you giving this same speech to them?" Vanessa asked, pointing back at Chuck and Blair and Nate, who were standing, waiting by Chuck's limo.

"No, probably not."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not worried about what will happen when their secrets come out. I think they're used to it by now."

"And I'm not?"

"Vanessa, maybe Dan's right, maybe he was an insider and now he can change that. I think you should follow suit."

"So I'm an insider too?" Vanessa asked, offended somehow even though she suspected the statement was true.

"That's not what I meant," Serena tried to back peddle. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

Vanessa nodded in response. She was tired of being hurt, but more secrets revealed would only lead to more heartache. Regardless of what Serena said Vanessa knew she was done with it. Let Blair tell Chuck she loved him, let him reciprocate. Let them all move on. She thought it best. What could Gossip Girl possible have on her that would change that?

"Tell Chuck," Serena said. "Tell him, just in case, and all this won't be so bad."

_Spotted: Serena Irrelevant van der Woodsen trying her hardest to convince the flock to find little ole' me. Well, well, it seems someone is going to have to pay for this. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	34. A Will Against Alcohol

_As the city heats up, so too do the relationships. Can you feel it? Can you feel things changing? New York City is full of change, always ready for the next big thing, but during the summer season the Upper East Side is full of people trying to figure out who or what that's going to be. For what it's worth, I think Queen B. isn't ready to relinquish her crown just yet. Oh, and a warning: those Brooklyners have yet to go away…as per usual. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

The summer sun bore down on them, searing into their respective skins, basting them and baking them and forcing them to shine. Artificial as it was, the sun's golden glow almost made up for the inner forecast of most teenage graduates: overcast, with a high chance of terminal uncertainty. Vanessa Abrams and Jenny Humphrey sat atop the roof of the Humphrey family loft in Brooklyn, both sunk deep into lawn chairs, fruity drinks tucked into the cup holders at their sides. They were each wearing oversized sunglasses, their hair pulled up high and loose, sweat beading down their backs. The heat was all around them, helping to hide Vanessa's unsteady nerves.

"I heard sun-tanning can be bad for your skin," Jenny said jokingly.

"Really? I didn't know that," Vanessa replied sarcastically. They both smiled and it momentarily soothed her. "I wouldn't worry though. You're naturally pale; it's like a disease. Plus, you're wearing SPF 75 over there."

Jenny laughed. "We can't all be dark beauties."

"Are you hitting on me?"

"Shut up," Jenny stated, moving her arm to slap Vanessa on the side. The girls laughed again. The summer was just starting.

"Is this what we're going to do all summer?" Jenny asked.

"Why? Do you have better plans?" She stealthily reached into her beach bag, the outer form searing itself to the tar roof, and pulled out a tiny airplane bottle of scotch. Just holding the miniscule amount of alcohol, feeling the glass rolling thorough her fingers, Vanessa thought of something, of someone, she was trying to forget. As if in an act of defiance, Vanessa tossed the bottle back into her bag and returned herself to the conversation.

"No," Jenny quickly responded to her friend. "But we've seen every movie that's playing in the borough, been to three art galleries, sun-tanned at least five times, and I think I've drank one too many iced mocha-lattes."

"What's wrong with all that?" Vanessa questioned, standing up from the lawn chair to keep a safe distance from her bag, the sweat that had pooled behind her knees rolling quickly down the soft skin of her long legs.

"School let out two weeks ago," Jenny said seriously. "And I'm exhausted. If you keep up this pace I don't think I'll be able to follow."

"I just…."

"I know what you're 'just' doing. You're trying to keep your mind off a certain someone."

"No. No it's not that," she replied, making Jenny sit up and take notice. There was a hint of sincerity in Vanessa's voice. "It's all of it. Chuck, yeah, but mostly Nate and backpacking and NYU and work and…."

Vanessa's voice trailed off, her head turning away from Jenny and into the blaring sun.

"And Gossip Girl?" Jenny offered.

And Gossip Girl. The name hung between them in the humid air, stalling their conversation and practically raining down on any fun Vanessa was beginning to have. Gossip Girl it seemed may never go away.

Since her encounter with Serena van der Woodsen following the high school graduation of everyone she knew, minus Jenny and herself, who had earned the diploma earlier and with far less fanfare, life had gotten complicated. Vanessa was aware that life had been complicated before, but the addition of Gossip Girl, a vindictive, secret-hoarding, still unnamed Gossip Girl, made things far worse. Serena's plans to rid them all of the blogs that seemed to run their lives had seriously and severely backfired and now, for the first time, Vanessa felt truly afraid of what might be revealed.

Perhaps sitting atop a Brooklyn loft with a drink in hand was not the best way to solve her problems or quell her fear, but it was the only option that continually came to mind.

"Are you still with me?" Jenny's question pierced through Vanessa's thoughts and sprung her back into reality. "You seemed sort of out of it for a moment there."

"No. I'm here," Vanessa said somberly. "I'm still here."

The large, rusted steel door leading to the inner workings of the building was suddenly thrust open, revealing a hot, sweaty, panting Dan Humphrey.

"What happened to you?" Jenny said, raising her sunglasses to get a better look at her disheveled brother.

"It's hot out," he said matter-of-factly, still trying to catch his breath.

Jenny smiled sheepishly and stood up, her body also dripping with sweat. "Yeah, we know."

Dan put his hand up to his eyes, as if to shield the sight of his baby sister in a bikini from becoming seared into his brain. "Can you please cover up or something?" he asked desperately.

"What, in this scorching heat you want me to put on a parka or something?" she asked sarcastically. "I don't think so," she told him, yet in an act of kindness she did wrap a beach towel around her slender hips.

"Thank you," Dan told her, peering cautiously between fingers. "Anyway, I wanted to see if you two want to go to the movies tonight."

"Again?" Jenny let out.

Dan smiled, his shoulders forming into a hapless shrug. He too had noticed Vanessa's cheerless ways, but he understood and therefore kept his mouth closed on the subject. He had told Serena and everyone else that graduation would change things, would change them. He declared high school, their friendships, and Gossip Girl things of the past. He had been wrong and for two weeks had been feeling the guilt of letting his potential life with Serena, his friendship with her, slip away.

Dan too had been to all the art galleries, seen all the movies, and drank all the iced coffee New York City could provide.

"Well, it's either another movie or game night with Dad," Dan said finally.

Jenny quickly responded, "I'll go get dressed." She left the two best friends in the heat on the roof.

"You okay?" Dan asked as he approached her.

"Yeah," she lied.

They stood silent for a few moments, looking out onto the Brooklyn Bridge, their eyes catching faint glimpses of other borough neighbors doing the same thing on their respective roofs.

"So how come you haven't asked me to cover up?" Vanessa asked playfully.

It was the type of question asked, and the tone of voice used, by the old Vanessa. The one Dan had been crazy about when they were kids. She was emerging under the sun, reverting back to someone they both could relate to. If only he could make the sun last.

"Well," Dan started, "I guess because I would be crazy not to want to look at that all day long," he said, his eyes taking in a brief survey of her glistening form.

Vanessa laughed. "Are you flirting with me Humphrey?"

"It's just the heat," he told her.

"Yeah. The heat."

The movie theater offered not only a chance to escape the clutches of a night of Boggle with Rufus Humphrey, but also a respite from the humidity that had ensnared New York. The threesome had traveled through the borough and into the masses of the Upper East Side, a curious move on Dan's part, at least to Vanessa.

However, once inside, cool and calm, Vanessa realized the theater was showing a revival of _West Side Story_, complete with surround sound technology and brighter, bolder coloring. She had seen the film countless times, knew most of the songs, and even a dance or two practiced embarrassingly in her living room when she was eight or nine years old. It was a classic movie, but not one she widely advertised to friends as being a favorite of hers, given her affinity for the independent and avant-garde. Still, seeing the old movie poster in a glass frame and catching the eye of Natalie Wood's Maria she smiled. Only in her teenage years did Vanessa truly understand the irony of secretly worshiping the film version of Maria, a strong, complex, dark-skinned character, played by a waspy, dubbed-over, white Wood. The memory forced her to laugh, drawing the eye of Dan and Jenny.

"I just…haven't seen this film in a while," Vanessa said, trying to fill the air.

"I know," Dan responded. Suddenly Vanessa knew why they were there; she knew why Dan was such a tremendous friend. She smiled warmly to him before shuffling inside and finding a seat.

Others around her were doing the same, the theater beginning to overflow. Even in the age of video games and blue ray and central air the movies were a welcome escape from the outside world. Looking around at all the suddenly pleasant faces, Vanessa caught of flash of a familiar one and quickly turned away, trying to hide her features behind her curly hair.

"What?" Jenny asked, noticing the distressed look on Vanessa's face.

"He's here," she whispered.

Both Dan and Jenny turned around and were confronted with the figure of Chuck Bass, standing in the aisle directly behind them. He was looking down at them and smiling. Had he forgotten all that had happened?

"I guess there are no Bass-free zones left in this city," Dan said, his voice gruff, disgruntled.

"I was just thinking that," Chuck let out, "but with another last name, of course."

As soon as the words left his lips Vanessa stood from her seat and whirled around.

"Outside! Now!"

She forcefully took Chuck by the arm and led him out of the theater, out of the lobby, and out onto the sidewalk, leaving Dan and Jenny staring helplessly after. It was only then, as the other patrons took their seats, that the Humphrey siblings spied a beautiful blond standing in the aisle: Chuck's date.

"I don't think that was truly necessary," Chuck told Vanessa once he found his bearings back outside.

"What are you doing here?"

Chuck smiled at her. He loved it when she became passionate, even if that passion was boring into him with an intensity stronger than the late afternoon sun. "It is a free…."

She knew what he was going to say and stopped him with a wave of her hand. "Don't."

Vanessa sighed heavily, before resigning herself to the knowledge that she wasn't sure exactly why she had dragged Chuck from the theatre. Was she truly angry? If so, why? Hadn't she been the one to apologize to Blair and to Nate and even to Chuck? Hadn't she ended it the day the ended their lives as real teenagers? Perhaps even before that, that day on a darkened subway car. The day she told him the truth.

Perhaps she wanted to feel him once more, to grab his arm and pull him along, to bask in the familiar warmth of his skin on hers. Perhaps she wanted to talk to him again, to yell at him again, to just be with him again. Or perhaps she was losing her rational thought in the midst of all that heat.

"Forget it," she said sadly, resigning herself to her own stupidity. "I don't know what I was thinking." Looking up at him with her eyes wide, wet, she stated honestly, "you should go back inside. Have a good evening Chuck."

He was confused, rightfully so, and for a moment just stood still staring at her as other theatre patrons passed between them to the doors. Finally, she too passed by him and disappeared back into the chaos of the overcrowded movie house. All Chuck could do was watch Vanessa go.

"God it's hot out today," Blair Waldorf complained to Serena as they strode down 81st Street, each holding a small container of coffee flavored affogato, taking delicate bites of the cold substance to cool their nerves.

"That's like the tenth time you've said that," Serena remarked. "Yes, it's hot. Yes, unusually so. Yes, I don't mind walking, but no, Chuck hasn't said anything to me yet."

"What?" Blair asked, forcing a stunned and startled reaction, a fake look of hurt flashing across her porcelain face. "I was not asking about Chuck. In fact, I wasn't asking you anything at all."

"Yes you were," Serena told her. "In your Blair-way you were. You even bought me ice cream!"

Blair flipped her long hair to the side, exposing her neck, letting the tiniest bit of air hit her sweat-covered skin. "I was just being a friend," she said through a wide smile. She couldn't hide it, she wasn't sure she wanted to. "Ok, you got me."

Serena laughed heartily. She knew Blair too well.

"Stop it," Blair chided her friend. "He hasn't said anything? Really?"

"Not a word."

Blair sighed. "We haven't spoken since the breakfast. Well, at least not about anything important." Blair took another bite of her expensive ice cream, a larger bite. "I was sure he would apologize at graduation. I was just so sure."

"I don't know what to tell you, except it is Chuck Bass we're talking about."

Blair took another bite, eating away her frustrations, a habit she knew she couldn't truly start again. "That line, that Chuck Bass line, won't work forever. I cannot keep telling myself that. Thinking he'll come around." Despite her best judgment she again gobbled at the treat between phrases and breaths. "You know, of all the people involved in this little drama of ours, its Vanessa who apologized."

"Sounds like someone…."

Blair stopped her from going any further. "Sounds like nothing. We're not friends. I'm just pointing out that if she can do it…"

"So can you?" Serena interjected, swiftly taking the ice cream from Blair's hands and tossing it in a near by trash bin.

"No! I'm not apologizing," she replied incredulously. "I meant Chuck. Chuck has to apologize." Before Serena could say anything else Blair finished her statement. "To me, okay? He has to apologize to me."

As they rounded the next corner, the sun setting, shadowed behind the high rises around them, Serena spied something in the near distance. It was an unmistakable figure, one that prompted her to stop in her tracks. She took hold of Blair's arm, forcing her friend to do the same.

Before Blair could protest or question the act, Serena pointed out across the street. There, standing in front of an old, revival movie house, stood Chuck Bass. Alone.

"Well, now's your chance," Serena said.

As Blair spied Chuck, just out of her reach, and she uncharacteristically cursed under her breath in response. "I thought New York City was supposed to be big."

"No," Serena told her. "That's just a myth. On the Upper East Side everyone knows everyone. More over, you know that."

Blair lowered her head, resigning herself to the knowledge that she did indeed know how small the circles of the Upper East Side truly were. She still, however, hated being the one who had the opportunity to talk to Chuck instead of him coming to her. She could wait, she thought.

"Don't wait," Serena suddenly said.

Blair turned her head quickly, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

"What?" Serena asked, a smile spread across her face. "I know you."

Blair was thankful for that, thankful for the renewed friendship. Still, as she turned her head away she couldn't help but mourn the loss of her friendship with Chuck. He had been there when Serena had vanished, every time Serena vanished. He had been a beacon in the mess that had become her life. Yet, he too had disappeared.

Without saying another word to Serena, or even acknowledging her, for fear that the slightest glance could set her off course or alter her confidence, Blair strode across the street. As she walked forcefully toward Chuck, his back to her, the layers of her deep blue dress fluttering in the breeze kicked up by her heels, Blair told herself over and over not to settle for anything or anyone less than she deserved. She told herself to face him, and to be strong.

As the mantra played out in her mind Chuck suddenly turned around in time to watch Blair's stunning beauty step off the street and onto the sidewalk before him. She opened her red mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She knew he meant it.

His vulnerability threw her off, and as she made her final approach to him she actually faltered in her step, her heel catching on a crack in the concrete, her leg giving way beneath her. Chuck reached out, sliding his arms under her own effortlessly, using his weight to keep her upright. As she tilted her head to the red and purple sky, the final touch of a setting sun caught her features, and for a moment Chuck thought she had never looked more beautiful. His awe played unwittingly across his own face, his eyes more open, more real, than Blair had ever remembered seeing them. She couldn't help but reciprocate, her mantra be damned.

They held in the stagnant, humid air together, motionless, save only their blinking and their breathing. Blair found herself holding on to his arms, as if suspended in a perpetual dip, the final act of a lovers' dance. She held on as tight as she could, suddenly afraid it was all coming to an end. Chuck let his right hand find the small of her back, using his muscle to hold up her weight, while his left hand found a place at the back of her neck, his fingers dampened with perfume and sweat, twirled unintentionally in long, brown waves.

Chuck smiled, the thin lines on his young, manicured face becoming tiny shadows, his eyes glistening, his lips already wet. Blair wondered if she was seeing, for the first time since that night on the balcony at a party over a year before, the night she knew he had "feelings" for her, the real Chuck Bass.

Vanessa suddenly peered around the corner, her hands clutching the brick, her face awash with sadness. She slipped back into the darkness provided by the theater's awning, her back against the wall, her breathing forced and heavy. She blinked rapidly, again and again, trying to forget the image that had just played before her.

As they stood together, holding one another just a few feet away from her, Vanessa silently berated herself for coming back outside. She kicked herself for having been so curious, so stupid, so attached.

"What are you doing?" Jenny asked, unexpectedly standing beside Vanessa, thankfully out of view of Chuck and Blair.

Vanessa quickly tried to silence her younger friend, her hands going up to the girl's mouth, but Jenny playfully pulled away. She didn't yet understand, but Vanessa pointed to the corner, and the blonde found herself sticking her head out from behind brick before reeling back in to Vanessa's side. She too was breathing hard, but she wasn't exactly sure why.

"What is she doing here?" Jenny whispered.

"I guess New York isn't as big as I once thought," Vanessa whispered back. She wanted to flee back into the theatre, but she found herself glued to the ground, with her back somehow tethered to the wall. It was only until Jenny forcefully pulled her through the exterior doors that Vanessa felt the security, and the color, creeping back to her face.

"Why am I so frightened?" Jenny asked, put off by her own adverse reaction. She shook her head, her hair flopping from side to side. "Why are _you_ so frightened?" she questioned Vanessa, thinking they were through with all this. She shook her head again, realizing it may take the entirety of the summer to be through with all this.

Vanessa sighed, lowered her head, and titled toward Jenny, as if she was afraid prying eyes might see and curious ears might hear. "I told him I loved him."

The words just feel out of her mouth and traveled to the floor. Jenny barely heard it, barely understood it.

"What?" she asked, but Vanessa wouldn't, couldn't repeat it.

Just then the double doors to theater number one burst open exposing a thin, tall, curly haired blonde, her face red, not from the heat, but from the fury. As she charged toward Vanessa, Dan came into view, trailing behind in a determined pursuit, as if desperately trying to come between the girl and his friend. He was trying to be the protector.

"Have you seen Chuck?" she nearly yelled in Vanessa's face.

It was only then that Vanessa and Jenny realized the girl was Chuck's date.

In unison, they both pointed outside.

_Spotted: Chuck Bass and Vanessa Abrams and Blair Waldorf and an unidentified blonde. It sure is getting crowded out there. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	35. A Drink for the Road

_In New York City the thing to do when one is down and out is usually to go up and be seen. No one knows how to pull off such a feat better than Blair Waldorf, but my spies tell me she's no where to be found. Can it be that an Upper East Side Queen would rather spend a night with the family than with a drink in hand? I doubt it, so keep your eyes open and your camera phones on because she is coming. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Blair Waldorf could feel herself losing control. Her skin was dotted with desire, the near-invisible hairs on her arm standing at attention, her palms beginning to glisten with sweat, her heart pounding from the confines of her chest. She licked her lips over and over, wetting the permanently pink pucker of her skin, imagining her own tongue to be the lips of another. With her eyes closed, her long, lush, dark lashes continually batting and blushing against her delicate face, Blair found herself falling, not physically, but her emotions were running from her head to an area concealed by the tablecloth. Above all, her thighs were aching, longing to be pulled apart. She was craving exposure.

"Blair, would you please pass the potatoes?"

Suddenly she was ripped from her lust and thrust back into the real world. Her eyes shot open to reveal Cyrus Rose, her still-new step-father, sitting diagonally across from her, his arms outstretched over the dinning table ready to receive the food.

"Blair, don't be rude," her mother Eleanor chided, before moving from her own seat beside Blair to grab the potatoes and pass them to her husband. She looked at her daughter and shook her head. Blair caught the action from the corner of her eye, but was not affected by it. She and her mother had come a long way together and their relationship was something she could only describe as normal, a normal mother shaking her head at a normal daughter, and Blair was alright with that.

Cyrus, after filling his plate with potatoes, said lovingly, "Blair, are you alright? You seem a little distracted tonight."

"Tonight?" her mother questioned. "Try every night this past week. Maybe this past month."

Cyrus put up his hand, his eyes full of concern for both the women in his life, prompting Eleanor to lower her voice. She, in return, put her arm around her daughter, but Blair did not respond in kind.

Instead she replied, "May I please be excused?"

It was unlike Blair to ask to be excused from the table, as she usually stormed off when the mood fit. Lately however, perhaps since graduation or Lily van der Woodsen's breakfast or since the rejection from Yale, Blair had been different.

"May I?" she asked again, this time looking to Cyrus, knowing he would say yes. He did and she slowly pushed her chair back, slipped from the seat and walked from the dinning room, leaving the edge of the tablecloth hanging low to the floor.

Once inside the shelter of her bedroom, the door closed and locked behind her, Blair threw herself onto the bed; enveloping her body in soft silks and three hundred count cotton sheets she felt the tension from her shoulders, back, neck, and thighs release itself into fabric. She was embroiled in a love triangle, a never-ending love triangle, and despite her efforts and her better judgment she could not get out. She couldn't escape, save only for the momentary solace of sleep. If only sleep would come sooner and last longer.

She had left the shelter of Chuck Bass' arms once the blonde came into view, a tall, thin beauty, staring at her, at them, from her perch before the theater. She had slipped from the sanctuary created by their bodies pressed against one another. She had retreated across the street into darkness, with only a furious glance given to Chuck, given to those left behind.

Serena had offered to take her to Geisha, suddenly reminding Blair that she had not been to the upscale, celebrity dotted eatery since her first breakup with Nate Archibald almost two years before. Blair declined the offer, not just to spare herself unpleasant memories, but to get herself home where she couldn't be tempted by booze and brownies and men.

Lying alone in her bed, her clothes melding to form with the blankets, Blair wondered if she should have gone with Serena, gone out to explore the Upper East Side, to shed herself of the countless images of Chuck that plagued her mind. Resolving to find out whether or not she would be better off with a drink in her hand, Blair threw the covers off her body, lifted her tired and sad self from the bed and thrust herself toward the closet. She rifled through her clothes looking for the sultriest, sexiest, and most stunning outfit the designer gods and her credit card had ever gave her.

"What are we doing here?" Vanessa Abrams asked as they stood outside on a rooftop bar, the summer air grazing their faces, like the gentle hand of a friend. "More importantly, how did we get in? Seriously Dan, did you slip the doorman a twenty?"

"A twenty?" Jenny replied. "In a place like this there would definitely have to be triple digits involved."

"Might I add, she's underage," Vanessa said, pointing to the petite blonde at her side as yet another tray of drinks passed them by. Jenny cleared her throat loudly, as if to signify that Vanessa too was underage. Reading her friend's reaction Vanessa added jokingly, "I look sophisticated for my age."

"Or old," Dan Humphrey final interjected. His comment was met with a punch to the arm.

He was looking out into the crowd, standing on the balls of his feet, trying to peer over the heads of the countless girls in six-inch heels. Then, as if by sheer will or force of mind, the crowd parted and he was met by the smiling eyes of Serena van der Woodsen.

As Jenny caught the sight too, the tall blonde gracefully moving across the rooftop toward them she stated, "Well, now I know how we got in: the delicate touch of Serena." The statement sounded cold, but it was not meant to; it was only meant to be fact.

"Hi," Serena said once she found herself standing with them, a glass of champagne already in her hand. She wasn't drinking it though, only holding it, as if by habit.

"Hi," Dan returned awkwardly. They hadn't spoken face-to-face since graduation.

Dan had called her the moment he saw her across the street from the theater, the moment Chuck's date came face-to-face with Blair Waldorf, a stunned and saddened Vanessa standing only a few feet away in the shadows by the door. Things were confusing, heated, and all beyond his care or control, but things with Serena could be changed. He could make the effort.

Serena hadn't answered, and in the moment he told himself her cell phone must have been on vibrate because he didn't want to believe that she would ignore his call while spying him across a desolate New York street. She had however called back, and after only a brief exchange invited him to Salon de Ning, a still happening rooftop bar where she knew they could all bypass the velvet rope. Standing together, for the first time in nearly two weeks Dan wanted to apologize for his remarks at graduation, but Serena would hear none of it. She dismissed his sad face and moved on to happier topics.

"Jenny, you look incredible," Serena said. "You too Vanessa." Both girls couldn't help but smile at the onset of the compliments. "And Dan, you look great, as always."

Before Dan could respond Serena continued, "so, tonight was one to remember huh?"

"Or forget," Vanessa said unwittingly. She looked up at the three pairs of eyes now on her and added, "given your particular perspective, of course."

Leaning in close to Vanessa, pretending to be trying to get a better look at the view that stood wide behind her, Serena whispered in her ear, "Have you told him?"

Vanessa shuddered at the thought and silently cursed herself for having confided in Serena in the first place. Those few weeks helping Serena attract the attention of the director of her high school production of _The Age of Innocence_ had been enlightening, to say the least. They had both shared secrets, secrets Vanessa thought they had buried. It was not as if Serena hadn't been helpful, it was not as if they weren't becoming friends, because truth be told things between them were quite stable and secure. Still, Serena had a habit of trying to make things better, to make relationships better, and while the act was a noble one Vanessa wished sometimes her penchant to be good would simply go away.

Sensing the tension she had inadvertently created Serena stepped back and spoke again, as if the conversation between the four of them had not been broken in the first place. "Well, if it helps, I don't think Blair had too great of a time either," Serena offered, and it did help; it helped ease Vanessa a little.

"And what do we have here," a voice suddenly pierced through the foursome followed by the form of Blair, inserting herself into the group, her eyes flickering, her lips tucked into a frown.

"Don't start Blair," Serena told her.

"I thought my best friend and I were going to blow off some steam not participate in a charity project," she returned bitingly. "Have you ever been here before?" she asked to no one in particular. When no one answered she continued. "I didn't think so. It's not really your kind of place."

Again she was talking to no one and to all of them, minus Serena, at once. Jenny shook her head, gave a soft squeeze to Vanessa's hand and then calmly walked away. After her encounter with Blair at graduation, and the acceptance of Blair's former Constance Billard crown Jenny didn't want to sour their temporarily steady relationship. In fact, she had yet to tell anyone of her rise in social stature at school, except, of course, Eric.

Blair said nothing when Jenny filtered away into the crowd. She only continued to the protests of Serena, who knew the words were a means to make a sad Blair feel, if only for a second, satisfied.

"How you even got in here is a riddle too complex to understand?" she quipped.

"Not that complex," Dan replied, his head titled to Serena.

Serena could only shrug. "So you'll just associate with anyone these days. Even after what he said at graduation? Come on Serena, I thought we were better than that."

"Apparently not," Vanessa offered, her eyes barring down on Blair.

"Why are you here?" Blair questioned. "I can see Dan wanting to rekindle things with Serena," she said only to receive eye rolls from both parties mentioned, "but you. There's nothing here for you."

Vanessa stepped closer, closing the gap between them. "To be honest, I was hoping Chuck would be here. I know he has a thing for rooftops."

Vanessa hadn't expected Chuck to be there, she hadn't even expected to be there herself just minutes before, but she did want to put Blair in her place. It worked. Blair found herself speechless upon hearing a familiar antidote about Chuck, a phrase she herself had said once before. Chuck did like rooftops and it was why Blair loved feeling the breeze rush through her fingers.

Vanessa didn't wait to truly take in the look on Blair's face, she didn't want to feel the guilt and instead followed languidly behind Jenny and hopefully away from the Upper East Side.

Serena, Dan, and Blair stood silent, an awkward air surrounding them. Serena was torn between wanting to comfort Blair and wanting not to make her friend appear weak in the eyes of others, in the eyes of Dan. As if sensing her concern, Dan motioned for Serena to step away, and she begrudgingly complied.

Blair walked toward the edge of the rooftop, placing her hands on the rail, gripping it so tight she wondered if she could wring steel.

"Are you okay?" Dan asked as he came up behind her, standing just inches from her back.

Blair did not answer, not out of spite, but because she honestly did not know the answer. Why had she been so confrontational? So caustic? Why did the sight of Vanessa stir her so? After all it was an unidentified blonde, an actress or dancer or model to be sure, who had found herself on the step outside the theater looking for Chuck. It was this girl who Chuck was now dating, whether only casually or not it made no difference. It was this unnamed girl who Blair should be upset with, not Vanessa. Yet every time she saw the curly haired barista she wanted to win a war of words even if the other side wasn't in battle.

"I'm just asking because…"

"Because Serena would want you to," Blair finished, but she was wrong.

Dan laughed quietly, "You really have no idea do you?" Blair thought what she thought regardless of what anyone else told her was the truth. As much as it got her into trouble it also endeared her to the likes of Chuck, and at the moment Dan. His laughter was from a place of complete bemusement. "I was asking because despite what you think I can be a nice guy."

"I know you can," she said honestly, "but I'm fine, truly. Things are back to normal. I should be thankful."

"Normal?"

"Between us all," she added, to help clarify her statement. She then turned around, resting her form on the rail and looking Dan in the eye. "Serena and I are close again, Serena and you are," she paused, trying to think of the right words, "friends I suppose. Which to be honest is something I'll probably have to get used to, since you never seem to go away. And Chuck apologized, so we're good again."

"Good again?" Dan questioned. "What does that mean?"

Blair felt the breeze kick up, cool air cutting into the heat of summer, her loose curls blowing in the wind, stray pieces of brown locks catching on the pale pink gloss of her lips.

"Like I said, things are back to normal."

Dan found himself beside her, also leaning against the rail, also feeling the wind wrap around him like a blanket that had been left out in the cold.

"But it doesn't feel the same, does it?" It was a question, but one Dan needed no answer to, he had the answer already, had formulated it all on his own. People could apologize, could forgive and forget, but once love found its way into the equation nothing could be the same as it was before; the past could not be relived.

As much as Dan knew he and Serena were not meant to be, at least not romantically, at least not at that juncture in their lives, he also knew he would always feel something for her. It would always be something more with her. Perhaps that was why he had pushed her away at graduation. They would be friends, they would laugh and share and love others before one another's eyes. They would be friends and for a while it would kill him, as it had killed him before, only this time he vowed not to sleep with any teachers as a means to feel better. They would be friends, but not the same as before.

Understanding his fate with Serena, Dan suddenly understood something about Blair. She and Chuck would be friends too, but it would never be the same as it was before she fell in love with him. Perhaps that made Blair the true loser in the sorted love triangle Dan had become witness to. For as much as he wanted to see Vanessa happy and healthy and whole, he knew she had never known Chuck as Blair did, and he was thanking the stars for that. Maybe it would spare her some of the pain, because he wasn't sure if Vanessa or himself could take anymore of it.

As he turned around to take in the New York sky, his watch, a graduation present from Rufus, caught on the cuff of Blair's cashmere cardigan; the white threads of were tangled helplessly on the winding stem He struggled for a moment to free himself, but saw the fabric fray and stopped, for fear of facing Blair's wrath. It was only when he looked up that Dan realized they were stuck together, face-to-face, with his hands on either side of her body, one clutching the rail for support.

The wrath never came, instead he only found her eyes, so open and pure and welcoming. The look made him step back, but the cardigan only unraveled more, his watch still stuck, so he quickly corrected himself, thrusting his form toward her once more, hoping to save her outfit. She did not protest, did not struggle, did not try to get away. She hadn't even looked down to see the damage being done to her clothes. She only stared at him, as if she could not help herself.

Perhaps it was because just hours before she had found Chuck's eyes on her, found herself so close to something so real. Perhaps she was trying to recapture it. Suddenly, Blair shook that thought away because she knew it to be untrue. She wasn't trying to relive a moment; she was trying to see if she could cultivate new ones without him, without Chuck. Could she look at another and still feel weak in the knees?

A gust of wind pushed past the corners of the city's buildings and found its way to them, sending Blair's hair twirling up and around them, as if creating a cocoon. They were temporarily safe inside. Feeling something, feeling anything, she moved closer to Dan, forgetting who he was and what he represented. She moved closer to him as if he were just a boy, any boy willing to talk nicely to her during a long summer night.

Dan found himself leaning in, his caution and his better judgment pushed away by the breeze. He could smell her lip-gloss; she could almost taste his cologne. They were barely an inch from one another, their eyes involuntarily closing, their bodies recognizing what was to come next. Dan let both hands grip the rail, holding himself steady, nearly wringing the steel.

Then the wind dropped away and Blair's hair fell back around her shoulders, the protective encasing all but vapors in the heat. They each sighed heavily, and Blair checked the strength of her knees. They were still in relative working order.

Without a word or a look or a touch Blair pulled her arm back hard and fast, her cardigan ripping up the length of the sleeve and releasing Dan's watch from the unwitting trap.

She then pushed herself from the rail and walked away, leaving Dan Humphrey and his questions behind.

His phone had beeped several times since he had wearily opened his eyes, beckoning him to check a long overdue text message. He ignored it, letting the sound drift into the pile of clothes that lay on the floor near the hotel bed. They were not all his clothes.

She was in the shower, the blonde whose name he could not remember. She was singing. She was annoying. Chuck Bass was ready to go home.

Picking his black boxer briefs up off the floor, he stood and let the morning light wash over his body, the sun's sparkle dancing across his naked skin. For a moment he contemplated getting back into bed and making a day of it, watching satellite television, ordering room service, drinking countless glasses of scotch. Then he took a closer look at the floor and recognized the empty liquor bottles, the tray of half-eaten cheesecake, and the muted porno playing on the t.v. He also remembered the blonde and knew he couldn't spend another day with her.

So he slipped into his underwear, concealing his morning erection inside, something he definitely didn't want the blonde to spy, and then pulled on his suit pants, suit shirt, and tie. He slung the blazer over his shoulder, fished his wallet out from under a red lace bra, took another swig of leftover scotch, a drink for the road, and then sauntered out of the room just as the shower stopped.

Once inside the confines of his limousine, the sanctuary for more than one of his one-night stands, Chuck flipped open his cell phone and was greeted with a text. He had half expected to see some news about the confrontation between himself, Vanessa, Blair, and the blonde from the night before. He was ready to take in the pictures of a disheartened Blair walking away, or a cold, unforgiving Vanessa turning on her heels and heading down the block. He would not have been surprised if there had been evidence of the blonde kissing him just moments later, her tongue halfway down his throat as if she were claiming his mouth as her own. If those pictures existed then so to would be the ones showing his hands all over her ass. When only a few words popped up on his screen Chuck smiled to himself and silently thanked the inventor of condoms.

He then, however, read the text. His smile faded and with it a large black cloud swallowed the sun.

It read: _This one's just for you. I have a secret. A secret you already know. A secret you'd want me to keep. I'm sorry, make that secrets. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	36. A Jug Overflowing

_At times, the lives of Upper East Siders can be viewed as a play, a very expensive and all consuming play. In our story the heroines and heroes stand apart, their stars shining ever brighter day by day. But as we all know the smaller players have an important role, one that can be overlooked, to terrible side effects. Because when the supporting stars fade so too does the story itself. Just ask Lonely Boy's BFF. Something tells me she knows it's about time for her secrets to be told. So please, have a seat and prepare for the next act. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

It's been so long. Things are different now. Everything has changed.

As Vanessa Abrams sat across the bistro table from Blair Waldorf, staring at an uneaten croissant, sharing a look of disappointment, a look of shame with her former enemy, she wondered what had happened; what had changed. Her dark hair was blown out pin-straight, her crisp blue eyes rimmed with cool grey liner, and her thin, strong wrists covered in colored bangles. Her usual smile, her occasional smirk, was tucked down into a frown. She looked different yes, but more than that she felt different. Sitting there silently alone with Blair Waldorf, Vanessa felt completely different. It had been so long since she recognized herself, since she felt whole.

_June 2009_

"What happened?" Vanessa asked as she and Dan made their way back to the Humphrey loft, both fleeing the awkwardness that had occurred on a rooftop bar just moments before. "What happened?" she questioned once more. "You look flustered."

"It's the wind," Dan responded, suggesting the redness in his face was due to the weather, but they both knew the truth.

"If the wind went by the name Blair Waldorf, then yes I would believe that," Vanessa scoffed as they made their way into Dan's building and up the stairs. Dan was averting her gaze; a tell-tale sign that he was trying to keep something from her; and a tell-tale invitation for Vanessa to commence her prying.

"She was fine," he said suddenly, almost overlapping his friend's earlier statement, but his voice was low. He was defending Blair, but he dared not let anyone hear.

"What?"

"Nothing."

With the turn of a key they were inside, warm and safe and home at last. Jenny had left with Serena, perhaps in search of another party, so they were alone in the loft, two best friends alone. Vanessa dropped her evening bag on the table and then found a comfortable spot on the sofa, letting herself sink deep into the fabric. She sighed heavily and heard Dan repeat her sentiment as he found a place beside her.

"What happened?"

Dan smiled wide; there were no secrets when Vanessa was around. "It was weird, nice maybe, but weird."

Vanessa raised a curious eyebrow.

"We shared a moment," he told her shaking his head, as if he too could not believe the statement.

"You and Blair Waldorf shared a moment?" she asked incredulously. "Now I've heard everything."

Vanessa somehow knew that Dan was keeping the knowledge of _other_ moments with Blair to himself, but she let him. While there were never supposed to be secrets between best friends, Vanessa had never been able to keep to that rule. She had to allow Dan the same leeway.

"What about you and Chuck? I'm pretty sure that pairing is one of the signs of the apocalypse," he smirked to her suddenly.

Vanessa swatted playfully at his arm. "I know, I know," she said, feeling as if she had defended her feelings for Chuck a thousand times before. But what else could she do?

"So I had a moment with Blair and you have feelings for Chuck…" Dan recapped.

They both nodded their heads solemnly in unison.

"The world's gone mad," he finished.

_Still June 2009_

"So it's official?" Dan asked as he pulled two glasses from a cupboard in the Humphrey loft. Using his own breath he blew off the layers of dust on Rufus' fine chinaware and headed back to the table. "They're really dating?"

Vanessa, her head lying on the hard wood table, the coolness of the object keeping her rage at bay, only mumbled in return. Her hair was strewn over her face, covering red eyes that only moments before had been dotted with tears. She hated the tears.

"I'm sorry V."

Again another series of mumbles, or groans, Dan could hardly tell.

"I guess it was bound to happen," Dan began as he placed the glasses on the table. "I mean, they do seem like they belong…." Dan's voice trailed off once he noticed Vanessa had lifted her head, her eyes tunneling into him like a sharp, metal drill bit, piercing every positive thought he had regarding Chuck and Blair. Dan tried to smile, to shake off her look of guilt, but it was no use and Vanessa knew it. Her powers of guilt were strong. Instead, he handed her a glass, but Vanessa passed it up altogether and groggily made her way to the kitchen.

"Things will be ok," her friend told her reassuringly.

Vanessa only shrugged, her back to Dan, her eyes fighting off the war of more tears. She truly hated the tears.

"Things will definitely be ok," he said again, as if giving the statement more strength the second time around. "You will be ok. You're smart and beautiful and you deserve a whole lot better than Chuck Bass."

He turned around and headed to his room, wanting to give her something, something that helped him when he broke things off with Serena. A book. Always Dan and his books. Did he really think a book was going to help? Or a speech? Or a puny glass of already opened champagne? He knew that none of those things truly cured him of his ills after the loss of Serena, they only distracted him, but perhaps that's exactly what Vanessa needed. He could be her distraction.

Coming back to the kitchen, the book left on its shelf in his room, his resolve to help higher than before, Dan found Vanessa back at the table, drinking alcohol straight from the bottle; a bottle that resembled a jug it was so big. Her tiny hands clutched it, holding it above her face, her lips permanently plastered to the rim as sweet liquid washed down her throat.

"Jesus Vanessa," Dan said, rushing to her aid and wrenching the bottle from her hold. As he did a string of booze flew through the air and landed on the table and the floor. Dan sighed, slamming the jug down on the wood, and grabbing a rag to quickly clean up.

"I can do that," Vanessa told him, as Dan got down to his knees to wipe up the mess. Her voice was horse, her throat raspy and dry. She had been crying, they both knew, but her voice revealed that the sadness had begun long before she had called him, long before the jug of booze.

Looking into her eyes Dan couldn't say no to her silent pleas, so as he continued to clean up around her he nodded to the bottle and shook his head 'yes.' Vanessa snatched it up once more. "But pace yourself," he told her sternly.

Vanessa did not respond; she only drank.

_July 2009_

"You'll really like him, I swear," Vanessa said as she grabbed two glasses from the cupboard. Dan quickly took them from her grip and placed them near the refrigerator before filling them with water from a pitcher. "There's just no trust in this house," she joked.

"Can you blame me?" Dan quipped back. "And a new guy that I'll really like? Where have I heard that before?"

"Ha ha," she said flatly. "I never said you'd like Chuck."

"I think we'll have to check the tapes on that one, but you sure did talk him up a lot."

Vanessa shook her head, her now straight hair whipping about her face. She was finally letting herself be again, just be, but it was a process. It was always trial and error…and with Vanessa they all knew error came as easily as did the trials. "I made a mistake," she finally said, letting herself understand the craziness of the past year; the craziness that was her feelings for Chuck Bass. "But he made his choice and I've made mine."

Dan raised an eyebrow.

"And I'm happy," she said loudly, a fake smile plastered on her beautiful face.

"Well, I don't know if I completely believe you," he responded, but she only smiled more. "But with a smile like that I guess I have to."

Vanessa took one of the glasses of water and indulged in a large gulp, her cheeks hurt from holding such a false pose. "So you'll meet him?" she asked, finding a place on top of the counter, her legs curled up beneath her form.

"Yes, yes, yes," he told her. "I'll meet him."

They both remained silent for a moment, Vanessa sitting on the counter, Dan leaning against the fridge. The room was still, calm; things had changed. Things were finally normalizing, finally settling down.

"So what's this elusive new guy's name?" Dan asked.

"Scott."

_August 2009_

"You know, for someone who says they want to be better friends you sure are dodging a lot of my calls," Dan said honestly as he and Vanessa carried the paper bags filled with Chinese food into the loft.

It felt like a ritual, an act that had to be performed again and again. Each time she was feeling low Vanessa called Dan and trotted to his apartment. Each time she was in need of comfort it was his number she dialed. Over and over they found themselves together. Over and over Vanessa wondered if she was using him, using him to make herself feel better. But was that not what friends were for?

Still, over and over she lied to him. Each time making herself feel terrible. Each time pulling herself from the memory of the person she desperately wanted to become.

"I'm here now," she told him, dodging his suspicions.

"I know, but usually I'm the one's who's hard to get a hold of," he responded.

"Ouch, conceited much?" she joked placing the bags on the counter and slipping her light jacket off her slender shoulders.

Vanessa felt Dan take notice of her clothes, perhaps he couldn't help it; something about becoming an adult and preparing for college made her infinitely more attractive. Perhaps it was how put together she appeared, how she was growing into her awkwardness, how her independent dress and style and speech was becoming not only the thing he loved about her most, but the things everyone else did too. Dan wondered if college had done something for him, would do something for him. Dan secretly wondered if Vanessa ever looked at him with admiration and awe or if those looks had died the day she fell for Chuck Bass.

Catching his eye, Vanessa could almost read Dan's mind, could almost tell what his smile meant, and it pleased her more than she wanted to admit. He smiled at her once more, after noticing that she had met his eye. She smiled back. Suddenly, they were easy again, and Vanessa had never loved a moment with him more.

"So?" Dan edged, falling back into the steps of friendship.

"So what?" she returned, pretending not to know what he meant when in reality it was all she had been thinking of. That and a certain boy whose name could not even be breathed.

"Why are you being so evasive lately? It's not like you to keep secrets."

"Who says I'm keeping secrets?" she said defensively, her mind swelling with the knowledge that Scott and Dan were actually biological brothers.

"I say," he told her, taking a mouthful of fried rice, blissfully unaware that the easiness was again about to become complicated.

"Well, I say you're wrong."

_September 2009_

"Seeing her everyday is disheartening," Vanessa said grudgingly. "I mean, she's literally everywhere."

"She is a student. She sorta has to be," Dan returned, the dice in his hand shaking about repeatedly, waiting to roll until his friend had completed her thoughts.

"There are other colleges you know," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm sure she could get into one of those schools."

"I'm sure she couldn't" Jenny Humphrey offered, a huge grin painted on her face, before slapping Dan's hand and forcing the dice to tumble out onto the Monopoly board. Dan opened his mouth to protest, but upon realizing the dice tallied in his favor he triumphantly took hold of his thimble and moved on.

"Well, thanks," Vanessa returned, "but I think seeing the crestfallen look on her face every time I turn a corner with Georgina by my side will help to ease my pain for now."

"I don't know V.," Dan began as Jenny took her turn with the dice. "Georgina's trouble…no one should get involved with her. No one."

_Still September 2009_

"I recall a certain someone telling me that no one should…" Vanessa began.

"Yes, I know," Dan interjected. "Please, do not remind me."

Vanessa laughed heartily. Somehow, in some devious, shameful way Dan's misfortune made her happy.

"I'm glad I can still make you laugh," he told her.

"I'm sorry, I am, but I guess seeing someone else mixed up with the wrong person makes me feel…" she thought for a moment, searching for the right way to put it, "not so alone."

They were walking down the street together, keeping a brisk but steady pace, each making their way to a respective class. Somehow, despite the late afternoon sun, neither seemed particularly concerned that they would be late. Somehow college was agreeing with them.

"Great," Dan responded, keeping walking pace and talking pace, "so we're both prone to dating bad girls. Or boys in your case."

"To be fair, what you and Georgina did could hardly be called dating," she smirked giddily.

"Oh really," he laughed to himself, his eyebrow raised. "Well, I did a hell of a lot more than you did with Chuck."

Vanessa had no response for that.

"Besides, it's not just about Georgina being bad…"

"Or clingy," Vanessa chimed in.

"Or that," he begrudgingly agreed. "I met someone. Someone else."

"Do tell."

Dan hesitated, a pause that seemed much too long to Vanessa. "Not just yet," he said delicately.

Vanessa was taken aback. "What does that mean?" she asked. "Are you keeping secrets now?"

"Secrets? It's not plural V.," he told her. "And I think you have some secrets of your own."

Vanessa felt her knees weaken beneath her; the air in her lungs fell dead and her mind swelled with thoughts. She was suddenly dizzy and without thinking put her hand out to Dan, her fingers clutching at his jacket, her body failing under her. He caught her, as a reflex, and she sighed with relief.

"Are you alright?"

Vanessa wondered how he knew about Scott. How had he figured her out?

"What secrets?" she questioned, her voice nearly a whisper.

"What?" he asked, helping to get her solidly back on her feet. "Secrets? You know, the whole Chuck thing, and how you kept that a secret."

"Oh, right. Of course," she said, trying to calm herself, calm her nerves.

Dan smiled and shook his head, walking on, knowing she would follow. She did.

"Wait," she said suddenly, but he did not hear her. Thinking to herself, speaking to herself she continued, "you said I'm "keeping secrets". Present tense."

What did Dan know?

_October 2009_

Music wafted down the narrow hallways, laughter rolled up the walls, and clinking glasses could be heard on every floor. Vanessa sat alone in her dorm room contemplating going out for Halloween, her senses compelled to do so given all the excitement that seemed to be growing up around her, but she forced those feelings aside. She knew where everyone else would be, her old "friends", but things were different now, she was different now…and if she was truly honest with herself she just wasn't ready yet.

Sitting on her bed, her back up against the wall, Vanessa thought about Dan gallivanting about Manhattan with a genuine movie starlet on his arm. She was alone and Dan Humphrey was downtown at a fancy hotel, with someone else. Vanessa could not help but feel jealous, jealous because now she was the only one alone. She had believed college would bring them closer together, but as the semester rolled on Vanessa wondered if it had only been their mutual loss and guilt that held them close; their respective loneliness could only be fed through a rekindling of their friendship. Then Olivia Burke happened. It was always the blonds that seemed to capture Dan's attention.

As the music from the hallway grew louder, Vanessa sank down under the covers of her shared dorm room. She tucked herself into the artificial warmth of the cotton layers and let her hair find its place across her smooth face. She sighed heavily and quietly thanked the universe for not making her a blond, because then she might be with Dan, and then she might have had to witness Chuck and Blair together, happy and together.

_November 2009_

"How long has it been?" Jenny asked, as she and Vanessa found themselves sitting side by side on the steps of The Met. They were each holding a takeout cup of hot chocolate, trying to keep warm in the emerging fall cold.

"Two months maybe," Vanessa said solemnly. "Well before Scott."

"I almost forgot about him," Jenny said, her voice low, almost as if she were ashamed. "I can't believe I almost forgot about my own brother."

Scott was a secret that had finally been revealed; yet Dan seemed almost at ease with it, unmoved by the knowledge that he had a brother. After all her anxiety he seemed all right, was it all for nothing? Vanessa had expected him to be angrier, more upset, more something, but he forgave her lies quickly and they fell back into step soon after that.

She wondered time and again if he knew all along, if he had suspected her secret, but the more she thought about it the more she doubted her own suspicions. He would have told Rufus sooner had he known sooner. He would have put her on the spot. She was left to wonder which of her secrets still hidden he had access to.

Vanessa gave Jenny a sympathetic look, "I almost forget sometimes too, as if he were an aberration of my mind, like I made him up or something." She shook her head, "maybe he was. Maybe I'm just not meant to have a guy."

"Well, that's crap," Jenny stated. "There's someone out there for everyone. Sometimes even three or four someones."

Vanessa laughed. "You're right."

"I know."

"I've just got to get out of this funk I'm in. Scott. Chuck and Blair. Dan and Olivia. Nate and whatever the hell he's got going on with Tripp…"

"Huh?" Jenny questioned, for a moment her eyes wide, ears perked. However, the mere mention of Nate was still an awkward topic between the two women, and as curious as Jenny was she decided to let her inquisitive nature dissipate, and Vanessa continued, pretending not to have heard the question.

"And the Freshman Toast. I saw him there, of course, but…" her voice trailed off. "That stupid toast."

"That stupid actress," Jenny added, albeit under her breath.

"What?!" Vanessa asked. "I thought you liked Olivia."

"I don't like anyone that fake." Just as the words escaped her lips, Jenny's Constance Billard minions began to approach, their Mary-Jane heel clad feet clopping up the concrete stairs towards them. "I don't want to be rude, but you need to go now."

Vanessa looked down at the gaggle of girls that moved towards them, each were dressed almost exactly like Jenny. Vanessa rolled her eyes and sighed; it was Blair Waldorf incarnate. "What was it you were saying about fake people?" she asked as she got up and moved off in the opposite direction.

_Still November 2009_

The air was heavy and stagnant, it smelled of anxiety and uncertainty, it could almost suffocate those in breathing distance. Vanessa felt heavy herself, her body being weighed down by invisible baggage. As cool and collected as she pretended to be, the threesome was affecting her in more ways that she could have possibly imagined.

Apparently, Olivia was also fairing badly, as her combative speech suggested. She practically accosted Vanessa during the play rehearsal, and as hard as she tried Vanessa could not understand why. Sure, jealousy was involved, a lot of jealousy, but why would anyone be jealous of her? How could anyone be jealous of her? Especially movie star Olivia Burke. There had to be something else, something more. What was it?

When she closed her eyes Vanessa could picture it, picture Dan laying beneath her, his face a mixture of pleasure and calm. The memory was comforting, as it was a memory without Chuck Bass. For the first time in a long time Vanessa had let herself go, she was totally at ease with who she was and what she was doing. Moreover, she was at ease with what she wanted and during that night what she wanted was anyone but Chuck.

Even as Olivia packed her bags before her, off to some film shoot, the memory made her smile. The air was heavy, but suddenly once realizing the freedom the threesome had given her, the baggage felt miraculously light, as if she could carry it forever. If only she could recreate that feeling every day. If only.

_December 2009_

"Have you seen him?" Blair asked suddenly, shattering the silence between them.

They were sitting across from one another at the bistro, which served as Vanessa's second home. The coffee kept her awake during those study nights and the tea helped her sleep when bad dream could not be kept at bay. Having Blair within her space made her uneasy, but she hid it well; she had had much practice in doing so.

"Have you seen him?" Blair questioned once more, her voice rising, her tone growing dark.

Vanessa was unsure of how to answer, as she was unsure of how or why the question was coming about. Had she seen him? When? Where? Why? Why would she have seen him after all this time? Vanessa shook her head from side to side, her silent response.

"Please," Blair began, a pleading air about her, her eyes wide and aware, "have you seen him?"

The day before had been the anniversary of Bart Bass' untimely death. What a difference a year makes, Vanessa thought to herself, what a complete and drastic difference. A year ago perhaps Chuck might have come to her in his time of need, but that was the past, a past she was trying to forget. Chuck and Blair were together, a couple, and there was little she could do, would do, to change that.

However, after Serena's late night car accident things had gotten strange. Dan was acting weird, Nate was acting secretively, and Blair and Chuck were suddenly nowhere to be found. Vanessa suspected Blair had convinced him to visit his father's grave, something she regretfully knew she would never have done had she been his girlfriend. Vanessa also suspected that after such an emotional experience Chuck had fled, as he was known to do, and that had prompted Blair's concern. She had to admit, Blair cared for him deeply, loved him deeply, or she would not have come calling on her.

"No," Vanessa stated honestly, "I haven't seen him."

Blair took her at her word and quietly vacated her seat, sliding from view and out of the bistro. At that very moment Vanessa's phone rang and the caller ID displayed something she had not seen in very long time: _Chuck Bass_. She lowered her head, as if in defeat.

It's been so long. Things are different now. Everything has changed. Or has it?


	37. A Jug Without Alcohol

_Spotted: Chuck Bass stalking the streets near NYU very late at night. Wonder where he slept last night? So does Queen B._

"You look different," he said to her solemnly.

"My hair's straight," she offered, as if it could be the only answer to his inquiry.

"No, that's not it," he stated as fact, and she knew he was right.

Vanessa Abrams did look different, a difference that perhaps very few could see, but Chuck Bass saw it immediately. She was standing in the doorway of her dorm room, her thin body pressed against the frame, her legs and arms bare, clad only in a tank top and boxers. It was two a.m. and while she was in a new place it all felt so old, like he had been there before on the other side of the door, waiting.

He was wearing his usually attire, a long wool coat, hiding an insanely expensive and flattering suit. His facial expressions seemed usual as well, a smirk on his lips and a sadness in his eyes. Vanessa knew he too had changed, but perhaps his changes were on the inside, perhaps his were changes of the heart. As much as it pained her she moved aside and allowed him entrance to her room, quieting the distressing knowledge that Blair Waldorf's room was just down the hall.

"She's at the hotel," Chuck said once he was across the threshold. "If you're worried about Blair, she's not in her room."

Closing the door and double locking it, Vanessa responded, "no, I wasn't even thinking about that."

He nodded, knowing her lie, but ignoring it. "Nice room," he told her.

"Yeah, thanks."

It was awkward between them. Very, very awkward.

"Mine's better," he added, "but nice room."

Vanessa only rolled her eyes in response. She then leaned against the door, her feet trying to dig into the hardwood to give her weak legs some kind of leverage, and to give her mind something else to focus on.

"I suppose you are wondering why I called, why I came here," he said, taking off his coat and finding a spot on the end of her bed.

"It's the anniversary of Bart's death," she said flatly. "I figured you're not of your right mind."

"You say that awful casually."

"I'm sorry, I meant you're insane if you think you're getting some," she quipped. It was meant to be a half-hearted joke, but the sting in her voice could not be held back.

"Not that," he said. "Bart. Bart's death. You say it so…without…"

"I'm sorry," Vanessa interjected, this time genuinely feeling the apology. "I never meant to…"

Chuck raised his hand, waving it calmly in the air, halting her speech. "It's alright," he told her.

Vanessa looked down; taking note of how white the skin of her toes was growing as they curled beneath her feet, trying without success to wedge them into the floor. The pain was increasing, but somehow she felt better feeling the pain in her feet rather than anywhere else Chuck could unintentionally inflict it.

"It's been a while," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"I thought you were going to tell me why you're here," she said quickly.

"I am," he told her, "but it's been a while."

"I know."

Another pause, another moment to look at her feet. Chuck watched her intently, her head hung so low, that newly straightened hair gracefully falling about her, the sheen on it sparkling in the moonlight. It was then that Chuck realized how dark the room was, only lit by a reading lamp by the bed and the moon through the window. He wondered why, why was it so dark? Had she unconsciously tried to make it feel like it always had, to recreate those late nights and early mornings when their bodies would dance about one another, fighting in a choreographed act of seduction and foreplay?

As if knowing his thoughts, or trying to preempt any poor conduct on both their parts Vanessa reached out for the light switch, her hand flicking it up, bathing the room in light.

"You really do look different," Chuck repeated. He was wringing his hands, his fingers interlocked in one another, rubbing knuckle against knuckle, again and again. He kept his eyes focused on Vanessa, but his hands seemingly had a mind of their own. Vanessa wondered what he was doing. Was he trying to keep his hands occupied? Did he want to touch her? Was it only her wishful thinking?

"I feel different," she told him, "but I suspect you do too."

"Yes."

"Why did you come here?"

Chuck shook his head from side to side, as if to relay that he was unsure of the answer. "It felt natural, normal. Maybe it was reflex."

"Reflex?"

She was looking him in the eye now, he felt on guard. "Last year I called you, I needed…" his voice trailed off, but she held her gaze. "Last year," he began again, "we talked after my father died. I suppose after yesterday I wanted to talk again."

"But we aren't really talking," she said honestly. "At least not about anything substantial."

"We didn't talk about anything substantial then either."

Vanessa smiled sadly. "Funny, I thought back then everything we said to one another meant something."

She looked away and her coldness left Chuck stunned and silent.

"I'm sorry about your father, but I really don't know what else I can do for you."

"There was a women there," he said suddenly. He almost could not believe he had said it. Was that why he had come to her, to tell her about the mystery woman? In the car, on the drive back to the Manhattan hotel Blair questioned him about the woman, but he had nothing to say. She always wanted to talk, and while he loved her concern for him, her love for him, sometimes he needed quiet reflection. As she inquired again and again, compelling him to search his mind for answers, Chuck sat there silently wishing he had a jug full of scotch with which to help him to drown his sorrows.

"Where?"

"Where what?" he said quickly, her voice snapping him back to a still sober reality.

"Where was there a woman?" she asked.

"At the grave, at my father's grave."

Vanessa wanted to make a remark about the women Bass men kept. Perhaps it was one of his many lovers paying a final farewell, or perhaps another of his ex-wives. Vanessa wanted to tell Chuck that she did not care what women were at Bart's grave or why they were there. She only cared about why Chuck was in her room, on her bed. She only cared about him.

"Who was she?" Vanessa asked, feigning interest.

"I don't know," he told her truthfully. "Yet, she seemed so familiar. I could swear I've seen her before."

"Maybe you have," Vanessa said. The statement was casual, like her earlier remarks about Bart Bass' death, yet they penetrated Chuck in an honest and simple way. She was right, he thought, maybe he had seen the women before. Why had he been doubting that?

"Maybe I have."

Chuck yawned suddenly; his open mouth and muffled wide sighs filled the awkwardness between them and made Vanessa smile. She couldn't remember if she had ever seen him yawn. She probably had, but it had been so long since they were together at night that she didn't remember how normal he looked when he did it. Chuck Bass, a normal guy. What a novel idea.

"You're tired."

Chuck tried to answer 'no', but he only yawned again.

"Why are you here with me and not out there with her?"

The question caught Chuck, caught him mid-yawn and almost made him choke. He took in a large gulp of air and steadied his thoughts.

"I told you, reflex."

"Well, I don't think I want to be a reflex you have anymore."

Chuck wondered if he was lying to her; wouldn't he know? Part of him called her, came to her, based on his past actions. Yet, another part of him had wanted to call her, to go to her, for a long time. He knew he was happy with Blair, he knew he loved her, but at times he wondered if there was meant to be more. Secrets and lies grew between he and Blair, and while they were always resolved and happy endings always abound, Chuck could not help but wonder from time to time what things would have been like had he chosen Vanessa. Such thoughts usually invaded his mind when he was performing menial tasks, like brushing his teeth, not when he was with Blair, so a part of him knew he was not unhappy with his current girlfriend. Still, the questions remained, always unanswered.

What could he tell Vanessa? That he thought of her, wondered about her, occasionally worried about her. Could he tell her those things? That because of their past and his overemotional state he felt nostalgic and perhaps selfish, so he came to her. Should he tell her that?

"Are you thinking of an answer, because if you have to think about it then it probably won't be true," she said quietly.

How did she know him so well?

"I honestly don't know why I came to you, but it has nothing to do with her, with Blair."

He said her name, he made it real. Vanessa could not help but wince.

"Are you hiding?" she asked.

Chuck raised an eyebrow, unsure of what answer she was expecting this time.

"Blair came to me today. She asked me if I knew where you were," she began. "So I take it you've been hiding from her, right?"

"Hiding is a strong word."

"I don't really care either way," Vanessa responded flatly. "It's just, I'm without a roommate and I have an extra bed."

Chuck moved his eyes to the bed on the other side of the room. It must be the movie star's bed. He smiled to himself. Why had he sat on the bed that was obviously Vanessa's? The answers really were unknown to him.

"If you're hiding you can hide here," Vanessa said.

As if without realizing it, she un-wedged her toes from the floor, calmly turned off the main light, and walked toward her bed. Her feet were nearly asleep, but Vanessa moved as briskly as possible, situating herself at the top of the bed and sliding beneath the already ruffled blankets without disturbing Chuck from his seat. Giving him one last look and a half smile Vanessa reached to her side and turned off the lamp that lit his face, plunging them into darkness.

In the dark, Chuck could only hear her move her head to the pillow and pull the blankets up under her chin. In the dark, Vanessa could only speculate that the rise in the bed and scuffles on the floor meant Chuck was making his way to the door. The door, however, did not open. Instead, Vanessa heard the springs on the vacated bed shift under the weight of a body, Chuck's body lying down to sleep.

Vanessa closed her eyes and tried to imagine time ticking backwards, moving to a moment when sleeping near Chuck Bass would not have been so awkward, but it was impossible. She slept knowing that time never existed.

As the morning sun streamed in through the window Vanessa found herself awake and staring blankly at the alarm clock. It was only seven a.m. She had barely slept five hours and it showed, she could hardly keep her eyes open. However, she had to get up before Chuck did. She had to make sure it was still there.

Vanessa had fallen asleep before him, her body relaxing, her mind surprisingly at ease with the knowledge that someone else was in her room, so she had had little time to check. She hated to admit that sleeping alone in the dorm room scared her at times, especially given her years of sleeping alone in her parents' apartment. Something about the dorm, about the constant footsteps just beyond her door, kept her awake at night. While she was still sleepy, those five hours of rest were greatly welcomed as they came without bad dreams or fearful wakes.

Creeping quietly from her bed to the closet, Vanessa opened the door and then crouched to the floor. She rummaged under some dirty laundry for a moment before producing a bag, the same bag she used to wear almost daily during the previous winter. It represented something, someone, she used to be and now it was crumpled in a pile on the ground. It still however, held her secrets. As if due to the absence of a vault, Vanessa was using the bag to hold the documents that were once safely contained inside a sealed envelope. Since that time the envelope had been opened and ripped and the contents passed between herself and Chuck, but eventually under the cover of night, it was all tapped back together and stored away in a college dorm room closet.

Vanessa felt foolish hiding the papers from Chuck, after all he had given them to her. If he found her looking through them she could easily say it was because she wanted to know more about him. If he found her on the floor with the documents she could lie, as she had before, and probably be believed. However, she wasn't trying to know more about him. In fact, since he had given the envelope back to her Vanessa had scarcely looked at its contents, save for one piece of paper: a death certificate. Not only had she looked at it, she let someone else look at it too. She had to be sure it was still there, tucked away inside her vaulted bag. She had to make sure her dirty laundry was protecting her shameful betrayal.

Chuck moved in his sleep, and Vanessa knew the sun and the hour would soon wake him up. She quickly stashed everything back in its proper place and then picked herself up off the floor. Just as she closed the closet door she heard a soft knocking on the door to her room. Cautiously walking toward it, careful not to wake Chuck or alert anyone to his presence she unlocked the handle, but kept the sliding chain in place.

"Vanessa, its me," she heard Dan Humphrey say from the other side of the door, and while she recognized the voice Vanessa opened the door only a crack, the chain still in place, just to be absolutely sure. "Are you gonna let me in?"

"Um, I'm not dressed," she told him, her voice horse and groggy.

"Well, take the chain off so I can give this to you," he said.

She looked down to his hands, a coffee cup in each one and a bag undoubtedly holding bagels tucked under his arm. Vanessa smiled and then closed the door, only to remove the chain and open it once more. She was careful to only open it slightly, trying not to be seen as she was meant to be naked, and trying to conceal Chuck's presence in bed.

Just as she reached out for the coffee the door swung open and Vanessa stood, shocked into place. Dan instinctively averted his eyes, despite having seen it before, but he quickly realized Vanessa was not naked, and she was not alone.

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice screamed, the voice behind the assault into Vanessa's room.

With that Chuck found himself awake, sitting up straight in bed and staring Blair directly in the eye.

"Bagel?" Dan asked, holding the bag out to them all.

_As another year comes to a close it's out with the old and in with the new. In fashion, in art, in life, and in lies new is bigger and better than ever. Yet, I can't help but still be attached to the old, at least until its purged from my memory. So with that I say more secrets and lies will be revealed. It's my New Year's gift to you Upper East Siders who have everything, the ones that are so hard to shop for. So stay tuned, 2010 is about to be my year. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


	38. A Scent of Alcohol Part 1

_Keep an eye open New Yorkers, something tells me that some great picture opportunities are about to arise. It seems Chuck Bass and Lonely Boy's BFF spent the night together…in a dorm room. I know: I'm gasping with shock too. But if you and I are surprised, just think how Blair Waldorf feels. Charge those cell phones, spies. Charge them quick. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

"I said, what the hell is going on here?" Blair Waldorf shouted once more.

"Yes, we heard you," Dan Humphrey responded, neither his voice nor face hiding the sarcasm and confusion that filled his mind.

"Outside. Now," Blair cried.

At first Vanessa naturally assumed she was speaking to Chuck Bass, who was frantically trying to detach himself from the blankets that clung to his suit pants. Vanessa wondered if she would be called "outside" as well, if she would have to answer for her crimes. As she thought of this possibility, and even quickly looked about the floor for a pair of slippers, Blair's hand tightly wrapped itself around Vanessa's bare right arm and tugged angrily. In an instant Vanessa found herself on the other side of the threshold, with Blair closing the door to her dorm room, sealing her out.

"What the…"

"Bagel?" Dan asked again meagerly, cutting off her profanities.

Realizing where she now stood, Vanessa quickly brought her hands around her chest to cover what the flimsy fabric of her tank top did not. Surprisingly, she hadn't thought to do so the night before with Chuck. Perhaps because she didn't care if he saw; perhaps because she was sure he had seen it all before. The few students that did line the dormitory hallway gave a boxer clad Vanessa strange looks, but they briskly moved on. College had allowed many of them to see it all before, as well. Suddenly she was alone again, with Dan.

"Stop with the bagel bit," she said sternly, readjusting her arms to better provide coverage and warmth. The winter chill was biting through the cracks in the windows and the poorly constructed walls. Vanessa felt a shiver run up her spine and she jerked slightly, involuntarily moving further from Dan.

Dan put the breakfast bag down on the ground near the door along with one of the coffees before righting himself and leaning on the adjacent wall. "Sorry, I'm just trying to lighten the mood," he told her, taking a steady sip from his steaming beverage.

"How unlike you," Vanessa responded harshly, still clutching her own form, cursing herself silently for not wearing heavier, warmer pajamas.

"Don't get mad with me," Dan stung back. "I'm not the one doing something wrong here."

"Neither am I," she said, but she turned her face away as she did so. It felt an instinctive action, hiding her eyes from him, hiding her lies. Trying to regain the upper hand she shouted, "I'm not the one that brought Blair Waldorf."

"What?"

"Why are you with her? I don't understand."

"I'm not with her," he stated flatly. "I came to your room to bring you coffee," he held the cup up as if to visually reassure her of his motives. "Blair just showed up. I'm as surprised as you are."

"So she was just walking by? Just happenstance?" Vanessa asked incredulously, not truly expecting Dan to respond.

"Well, maybe if you weren't sleeping with her boyfriend she'd have no reason to stop by unannounced."

Vanessa wanted to protest, to assure him that she and Chuck were not sleeping together, that in fact, he had spent the night in another bed, but she didn't. After what she and Dan had shared, that intimate night laying above him, she felt strange somehow talking to her friend about sex – even the lack there of. Instead, Vanessa just stood there, motionless and confused and hurt.

The sentence would not dissipate. It hung between them. There it was, what Dan truly thought of her, what he truly believed. The words bit into her skin, through her muscle, and headed straight to her heart. She hung her head in slight despair. Yesterday things had been fine, today things were…

A loud noise shook Vanessa from her thoughts. It was coming from inside her dorm room. At first, for just a moment, Vanessa had a mental image of Chuck and Blair moving her furniture about in an erotic game of make-up sex. She could picture in her mind's eye the two of them whipping off their clothes and making love on her newly purchased area rug, the burns from the fabric leaving impressions on their bare skin. Vanessa violently shook her head, trying in vain to vacate the image from her consciousness. Why would she think of that? How could she think of that? Where was a good scotch when she needed it?

"Are you alright?" Dan asked her sympathetically, slumping his back against the wall, allowing his body to slide down to the floor. She could tell from the tone in his voice that he was pitying her, perhaps under the mistaken belief that Chuck had seduced her, or some other ridiculous notion about the night before. She could also tell that he had given up, in some small way he had given up on her and now he sat on the ground, as if in defeat.

"I'm fine," she stated, finally turning to look at him once more. "Nothing happened. I'm not thinking inappropriate thoughts. And yes, I do wish I were wearing a bra right now."

She was answering all the questions Dan dared not ask, and in a way she was trying to be funny, trying as he did to lighten the mood. Dan, however, made no attempts to get up. Feeling obligated to do so, and perhaps craving the closeness, Vanessa found herself sitting on the ground beside him, her bare legs pulled tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her right thigh pressed firmly against Dan's, the roughness of his denim jeans leaving unseen abrasions on her silky skin.

"Do you want my jacket?" he finally asked her, and Vanessa could not help but smile. Dan could never stay mad at her long.

"I want back into my room," she said honestly, and once the words had escaped her mouth Dan made a motion to get up. Vanessa grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you back into your room," he told her, a gentlemanly grin on his face.

Vanessa shook her head. "No. Don't bother. I'm not sure I want to see them."

Dan scoffed, his charm momentarily hidden behind a small laugh. "Well, you're gonna have to see them soon enough."

"Granted," she agreed, "but not now."

"I promise not to go knocking down the door, if you ante up on what happened last night."

Vanessa felt the urge to ask him if he was jealous. Not romantic jealousy, to be sure, but the same jealousy she felt when Dan began his secretive affairs with Georgina and Olivia. Thinking about it, Vanessa wondered how Dan's life became more interesting than her own. Had it always been that way? She smiled to herself at the ridiculousness of it all. Still she wanted to ask him about jealousy, but was fearful of his answer. Perhaps he was not jealous, but rather disappointed in her and, if true, she would not be able to stand that.

"He just showed up, at my door," she said, her voice barely audible, as if she was afraid some unseen force was listening to her every word. Dan leaned in closer, his head almost resting on her shoulder, straining to hear. "His father had died. He seemed…sad, I think. I only talked to him, that's all."

"He just showed up? Unannounced at your dorm room door?" Dan asked in amazement.

"Yes."

Dan scoffed.

"You don't believe me," she stated defensively, her tone rising momentarily, until she remembered once more where they sat.

"It's not that I don't believe you, I just don't believe Chuck. I mean, my mind can't wrap itself around the image of Chuck Bass hanging out in your dorm room," he told her honestly, shaking his head as if trying to shake the image into existence.

"We were not 'hanging out'."

"No? Then why the slumber party?"

Vanessa sighed heavily, letting her body grow limp, letting her defenses down. She laid her head on Dan's, each of them cradling one another with their flush cheeks. Vanessa wondered when it became so hot, her face turning an involuntary shade of red. Perhaps the questions she had promised to answer were about to become too much.

"He slept in a separate bed," she offered. I was an excuse, a justification of her actions, not an answer.

Dan said nothing. She felt silently compelled to continue.

"I told him he could stay. I told him that I thought he should stay the night, given all he had been through."

"So you invited him in and then invited him to sleep over?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm."

"What?" she asked gently, her words breathlessly exhausting themselves into his hair, causing a shiver to grow down his spine.

Sitting upright, cautiously pushing himself away from her, Dan answered, "I was just thinking that some things never change."

"Everything changes."

"Not everything. Here we are, you and me, having a conversation we had a year ago."

"What are you talking about? We never had this conversation."

"Maybe not this one exactly, but a year ago you and I were discussing the pros and cons of a relationship with Chuck…"

"Well, that's not what we're doing here," she offered, cutting him off harshly.

"No, but during all that time, having all those talks, we always seemed to come around to the same thing." Vanessa only stared at him, her eyes wide, expectant. "That it was wrong." She opened her mouth to protest, but Dan only continued. "And this Vanessa, this is wrong."

As if on cue, the door to Vanessa's room swung open with violent force, the wood creaking and cracking under the strain. She jumped to her feet, careful to cover herself, and careful to avoid Dan's knowing eyes.

There in the doorway stood Blair, and while Vanessa was expecting to see scorn and hatred and anger written across her face there was nothing to fear. Blair simply smiled, not wide, not bright, but still a smile, and then walked away down the hall and out of sight. Chuck followed seconds behind her, silently retreating into the early hours of a New York morning.

Vanessa only looked after him, her mouth open as if wanting to speak, and her eyes blank as if not believing what they saw. She stood motionless; her arms hugging herself, wishing someone else would hold her.

"Come inside," Dan said, breaking through her dazed state. "Come on."

Vanessa reluctantly followed Dan into her own room. Once inside she took stock of the scene before her, the blankets lying in a crumpled pile on the floor, the bedside lamp knocked on its side, the once stacked dvd's scattered at her feet. She quickly brought her eyes to the closet door: still closed, she sighed in relief.

Vanessa wondered what had happened while she was in the hallway. She wondered what had been said. She wished the walls could tell her everything.

"Are you alright?" Dan asked her, the second coffee and breakfast bag back in his hands.

"How many times are you going to ask that?" she questioned, taking the treats from him and placing them on the wooden desk near the window. Opening the curtains, the room was suddenly flooded with natural light, and Vanessa was abruptly aware that this was indeed reality, and that unfortunately the walls would never talk.

"Just this last time," Dan told her, still standing in the doorway, apparently unsure of his place. He was shifting his weight from leg to leg, swaying from side to side.

Vanessa turned to look at him and nodded in understanding. "I'm ok. You can go."

Dan was hesitant for a moment, but Vanessa smiled, trying to reassure him. Dan smiled back, but they both knew something lay beneath their respective smiles. They were both trying to make one another feel better at the expense of their own doubts. Reluctantly he responded, "Yeah, ok. Call me if you need me."

As rapidly as it had begun it was over. Blair was gone. Chuck was gone. Dan was gone. She was alone again, just as she was the night before. Vanessa felt her breathing grow quick, her heart race, her gut tumble. She felt sick and sore and sad. Trying to mimic the calm she felt before the knock on her dorm room door, Vanessa quickly pulled the curtains shut again. As the light continued to creep through the fabric, she grabbed the pillows that lay on the spare bed and piled them on top of her desk, blocking the light. The room grew dark, but not dark enough. Frustrated, she fumbled for the covers on the floor, and then draped them over the curtain rod, letting their thickness obstruct the last of the morning sun.

As the room became cloaked in darkness, Vanessa felt her body fall at ease. As she backed away from the window toward her own bed, her bare feet touched upon something wrinkled on the floor. Looking down she could not make out the item in the dark, but after picking it up Vanessa knew what it was and held it tight. Without thinking Vanessa slid the wrinkled suit jacket over her form; Chuck's suit jacket. She then climbed into her own bed, letting the fabric wrap her in warmth.

Adjusting her body, trying to find a more comfortable position in the bed, Vanessa felt something hard jab at her upper chest. She fished inside the suit jacket, her fingers dinging deep into the breast pocket, touching the cool metal of Chuck's flask. Vanessa took the object into her hands and screwed open the cap. It was empty and she frowned, but the fumes of scotch surrounded her and before she knew it Vanessa was asleep. The flask slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor.

_Spotted: Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass kissing outside NYU dorms and Dan Humphrey leaving just moments later. Hmmm, where or where is Lonely Boy's BFF? And who will she be kissing now?_


	39. A Scent of Alcohol Part 2

_Sometimes, despite our very best efforts, the people we love end up hurt. While that's an inevitability of life on the Upper East Side, what's more plausible and perhaps more interesting is the hurt caused by those we refuse to admit we love or the hurt we cause them. I mean, on a moment's notice a quiet little love triangle can become a square…and we all know there's more lust, hurt and juicy stories with four people than three, especially these four people. XOXO, Gossip Girl. _

"You really shouldn't be here," Chuck Bass stated to the woman on the other side of his hotel room door. His voice was low, as if trying to hide the visitor from someone, but there was no one else inside but him. The woman knew it and entered briskly, brushing past Chuck, the smooth, silky skin of her bare hand touching his own. It sent uncontrollable shivers up his arm.

"Blair's out," Vanessa Abrams said calmly when she had reached the middle of the front room. "I watched her leave."

Chuck only smiled at this detail, pleasantly surprised to see that her daring was still intact. He closed the door and then followed her back inside, his velvet night shoes sliding along the hardwood, his long gold trimmed robe snugly tucked around his form. It was early, very early, and Chuck knew Vanessa was using the morning hour to catch him off guard.

He groggily rubbed his eyes, pressing the morsels of sleep away with his hands and clearing his blurred vision. Vanessa was standing among the luxurious hotel furniture, one hand absently resting on her hip, her body trying to gain presence and power in the space.

"You left this," she stated flatly, holding up a paper shopping bag, the rope handles dangling from the fingers of her right hand.

Chuck knew it was his suit jacket, dark blue and wool, with three buttons. He knew there was at least fifteen hundred dollars in that bag and he shook his head at the idea that it had been crammed inside such a small area, probably wrinkled beyond repair. He reached for the bag, but just as his hand got close Vanessa let the rope slide from her skin, the bag falling to the floor.

Chuck looked at her and she raised an eyebrow.

"Nice," he stated as he picked up the bag and set it on the table.

"Well, you shouldn't have left it behind."

"I was in a hurry."

"I noticed," she began, turning her back to him, the subtle scent of her cinnamon tinged shampoo wafting in the air toward him. "Perhaps if you hadn't been sneaking around on your girlfriend…"

"Sneaking?" he interrupted, walking closer, careful not to let her see the intense attraction he had to that scent, her scent. "Chuck Bass does not sneak."

"Sneak. Lie. Cheat. Chuck Bass does it all."

"The early morning hours have quite an affect on you Vanessa," he told her mockingly, the coolness of her voice making him rattle.

"As they do to you Chuck," she stated calmly.

She found herself at the fireplace, her arms lazily resting on the mantle, the cold of the marble soothing the redness growing within. She hadn't wanted to be harsh with him, to show her flickers of anger so boldly. She needed to regroup.

"I need you to tell me that the other night was an dream, a figment of my imagination, and that it will never happen again," she stated, her back still turned to him, her voice getting caught in the flames of the controlled fire before her. "I can't sit around waiting for you to come knocking on my door."

She turned to him, determination coloring her eyes. "Because I was fine without you Chuck. I always am."

"I know," he said solemnly.

"That's all I came to say."

Vanessa began to walk away, her body pushing off from the mantle, her form brushing past him once more.

"Wait," Chuck stated and against her better judgment she did. He wanted to tell her what had happened, why he had come to her, what Blair had said. Something compelled him to tell Vanessa everything, if only he could find the words.

***

"What is going on?" Blair Waldorf shouted once more as the dorm room door slammed shut behind her, the force creating a kick of wind that blew her hair wild about her face.

"Blair, let me explain," Chuck Bass began as he rose from the spare bed in Vanessa's room revealing a wrinkled suit shirt and an undone tie. His left leg found itself caught in the multi-colored blankets, cotton wrapped around his suit pants, leaving tiny wisps of fabric fibers behind and weighing him down.

"Oh, you will explain. Believe me, you will explain," Blair told him, her voice leveling out. Chuck knew she was aware that the dorm was full of eager ears; that Gossip Girl was everywhere.

"I know," he said, as the blankets finally fell to the floor, taking his suit jacket with them. Chuck stood before her, earnestness in his eyes. It was a look, a feeling he emitted, that made Blair melt and Chuck knew its power. Blair turned away as if trying to shield herself from any of his games.

"Well," she prompted, her body angled away from him, but her ears perked, eager to hear his ample apologies.

"Here?" he asked as he walked toward her. "I think we should just go."

"Not until you explain what happened here."

"Nothing happened here," he told her, sounding more convincing than he imagined he could.

"Yes. It certainly looks like nothing," Blair stated sarcastically, waving her hand across the expanse of the room, highlighting the crumpled blankets and Chuck's state of dress. "I know we play games Chuck, but this is a little outside my comfort zone. So, if you don't start talking I'm leaving. And you do not want to see what happens after that."

Chuck understood her point, and as awkward as the situation was that swirled around him, he did not want to lose Blair. "I came here during a low point," he told her, which technically was the truth.

"I know, Chuck," she told him. "I was there, remember? I saw the woman in the cemetery. I was thinking what you were thinking. So why couldn't you come to me? Come home with me?"

Chuck sighed heavily. He had no answer for her, honest or otherwise. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Blair, what happened here," he said, before realizing which words he was using. "I mean, what did not happen here has nothing to do with us."

Blair stifled her urge to lash out or to cry. "No Chuck, it had everything to do with us." She shook her head in disgrace before continuing, "I am so sick of this. Of her!"

A long, awkward silence hung between them, filing the air around them with uncertainty and making them both uneasy. One of them had to back down, had to give in. One of them had to show their hand.

Blair exhaled and took control of herself and the room once more. "Go get cleaned up and we'll go."

"What?" he asked, startled by her newfound calm.

"Go wash this night off your face and then take me home," she commanded sternly, yet completely composed.

Chuck resigned himself to the knowledge that he would not know what Blair would or could do about the predicament he had caused until they were away from the dorm and in the safety of his hotel room. He would have at least another twenty minutes to live.

Chuck walked past Blair, heading to the attached bathroom in Vanessa's room. He stepped around her widely, too fearful to move in for a kiss or a hug or anything that might be construed as guilt on his part, but his large steps caught him once again in blankets, this time Vanessa's discarded comforter. Chuck felt his foot slide forward, the blankets picking up speed on the smooth hardwood, and without thinking he instinctively reached out for support. His hands found solace on the door knob of Vanessa's closet, pulling it and causing it to partially open he clung to the handle and the wood, his other foot flailing unglamorously about and knocking over a bed side lamp. The object tumbled to the floor, the shade cracking under the stress. Chuck gripped at the closet door until he was able to right himself. Finally standing upright he pulled at the cuffs of his shirt and smoothed out his tie as if readying himself for a night on the town, but still Chuck lowered his head in shame. He hated looking so foolish in front of Blair, and looking it so often.

The lavatory was shared with the students dwelling on either side, so Chuck was quick to lock all possible doors once standing before the mirror. Blair, hearing the doors lock, relaxed her shoulders and her overall form, her face falling from its tightened look of disappointment and anger. She hated to admit it, but it was hard to always play the role of the scorned one, or even the one perpetrating scorn. At times, Blair wished things could be easier. As she thought that though her eyes were cast down to the floor, at the pile of clothes that seemed to be forced out of Vanessa's closet during Chuck's struggle with the blankets. There, peaking out from a handbag under a sweater, Blair could see the crisp brown corner of a large envelope. Without thinking she stealthily snatched it from its hiding place in once swift movement. Opening the flap and fishing around inside, Blair instantly knew what she held in her hands and nearly cried out in surprise and relief and perhaps in joy.

From inside the bathroom she could hear the running water come to an end and quickly put a plan into action. Blair stuffed the envelope into her own over sized handbag and then frantically, yet quietly, kicked at all the odds and ends from Vanessa's closet that lay haphazardly on the floor. She crammed everything back into its dark storage place and then forcefully shut the closet door, just as Chuck emerged from the bathroom, standing in the doorway, wiping his hands with a navy blue towel. The sight of him, staring at her nearly on her knees by the closet door somehow startled her and Blair found herself crouching and then walking away, her back to the dresser, her elbows colliding with a stack of CD's and DVD's that re-actively fell around her feet.

"Let's go," she stated somberly and Chuck knew not to question her, only follow.

As the dorm room door flew open, the wood crashing into the dresser Blair had just knocked, her heel-clad feet nearly crushing the items beneath them, Blair gave Vanessa a simple smile. The smile of someone who knew something, who had something. A smile Vanessa seemingly did not understand.

***

"What am I waiting for?" Vanessa asked impatiently, staring blankly at Chuck, whose eyes were cast to the ceiling as if counting invisible hairline cracks.

Chuck, snapped out of his remembrance of the day before, could not find the words. He wanted to tell Vanessa what had happened, but he also knew better. It was time to stop. It was time to let go.

Chuck shook his head and smiled. He had thought that, promised that, and failed that all before.

"Goodbye Chuck," Vanessa suddenly said, turning on her heels and swiftly exiting his room without any fanfare or overwrought emotion. It seemed anticlimactic, yet right somehow. It was certainly best, he thought. How would he explain what happened on the street? Why should he have to?

Reaching inside the brown bag and grasping at his jacket, Chuck inhaled the cinnamon scent once more as it lifted from the fabric, and shuddered in excitement and fear. He just could not seem to be rid of her, and as he fished about the blazer's pockets searching for his now missing flask, Chuck realized Vanessa, hard as she tried, could not be rid of him either.

***

"May I speak now?" Chuck asked Blair once they were outside on the street, the university dorm looming over them like the dark memory of a night best forgotten.

"I asked you to speak when we were up there, but it seemed too difficult a task for you," she replied harshly.

"I never meant to hurt you," he told her. "In fact, the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you. I relapsed."

"So suddenly Vanessa has become your drug?"

"No, of course not," Chuck stated truthfully, taking her shaking hand into his own. "I fell back into the person I used to be. Someone who was too afraid to tell you what he really wanted, what he really needed."

"Which was?" she asked him, but Chuck could see the fear in her eyes upon hearing the actually response.

"Silent support."

Blair scoffed, her breath suddenly visible in the air, but she quickly contained herself and regained her composure. "I'm working on that…the silent part, I mean."

"I know."

"So you and Vanessa didn't…" she began to question.

"Never," he interjected.

"And you won't?"

"Never," he responded just as fast, but not as sincere. Blair seemingly did not notice.

"I want to support you. I do support you," she told him, her hand now tightly gripping his back, their fingers beginning to lace about one another's despite themselves. "And I protect you, you know that right? I protect you from people and things you need protecting from." As the words escaped her lips she brought her other hand to her bag, squeezing it, unconsciously making sure the envelope was still tucked away inside.

"I know you do," Chuck stated. "And I love you for it."

They kissed then, sweetly, softly, their lips moist and ready, their bodies giving no sign that they knew they were being watched.

As Blair pulled away she stated, "You know you're not off the hook yet, right?"

Chuck nodded in understanding.

***

As Vanessa waited inside a coffee shop just a few blocks from Chuck's hotel she sipped absently at her hot chocolate and longed for a time before she liked boys. A time when it was just her…and maybe Dan. That thought made her smile in earnest.

Suddenly, Vanessa's phone began to vibrate violently in her pocket, as if it knew the urgency of the message. Vanessa, upon flipping the phone open, was greeted with the harsh light of the text message screen and something she wasn't completely certain she would have to deal with again.

TextMsg - GossipGirl: _Have you seen the latest pics on my page? Queen B and Chuck locking lips? I'd say its time I let that secret you told me slip…what do you say?_

"Hey." The voice startled Vanessa and she instinctively snapped her phone closed, nearly catching a finger in the plastic and metal pieces, before shoving it all back into her pocket.

"Hey," she responded without looking up.

As Dan Humphrey sat down across from her he asked, "what was that?"

"Nothing important," she lied, taking a sip of her drink to cover the frown she now wore on her face. Vanessa slyly looked up over the edge of the cup, dark brown locks catching in her lush eyelashes as she tried to see if her oldest and dearest friend was staring back at her, looking at her with disapproval as he often did. Yet Dan was casting his gaze toward the menu and Vanessa was silently thankful for that.

"So," he began, taking off his coat and adjusting the collar of the light blue shirt that peaked out from under his dark vest. "I can't help but notice how close we are to Chuck's hotel."

"That's not something I really want to talk about," she told him, her lips still dangerously close to the hot liquid of her drink.

"Okay. You called me and told me you needed to see me, but you don't want to talk about yesterday?"

She shook her head no.

"Right, of course. And I take it you don't want to talk about Chuck at all?"

She shook her head again, in line with his words.

"Figures," Dan sighed. "And you won't tell me who that text came from, even though I know it's more important then you are letting on?"

"Yeah," Vanessa replied sadly, resting her mug on the table and her eyes on his own. He had her completely pegged.

"So, forgive me for asking the obvious, but what did you want to talk about?"

Dan, somehow sure she wasn't going to or perhaps couldn't answer, turned his body in his chair to signal a waiter without awaiting her reply. His hand raising halfway into the air, Vanessa caught it and brought it back down, her smooth, soft fingers falling gently over his, her thumb stroking his upper wrist, forcing the tiny hairs on his arm to attention.

Dan shook his head, mimicking a confused Vanessa without even trying and asked once more, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Us," she told him honestly, her eyes smiling despite all that had happened and was about to happen. "I want to talk about us."

TextMsg – GossipGirl: _Well? I'm waiting._


	40. A Drink for Two

_Every time I think I've washed the Brooklyn off me, and off the Upper East Side, another over the bridge resident lands on my radar. We hear Lonely Boy's former BFF is in Spain and we couldn't be happier to see her go. All the lies and schemes were entertaining in the New York City heat to be sure, but they always seemed to fail. But almost moments after her passport was stamped so was someone else's – headed east on a private jet and out of the land of skyscrapers and scotch. Where oh where could he have gone? And why oh why would he follow her? Only time will tell. XOXO, Gossip Girl._

Barcelona, Spain is beautiful in the summertime. No one can argue with that. Cobble stone side streets, historic castles littering the skyline, museums and shops and the smell of freshly baked bread and deep dark wine. A land of love and blooming flowers; it was no wonder why Vanessa Abrams had travelled over the Atlantic for a piece of that sun soaked luxury.

The ocean flyover had been worth it. The neck pain and finger numbing boredom of staring at the night sky for nearly eight hours had been worth it. The pat down at customs had been worth it. All the years of not belonging were behind her. Everything was behind her now.

Sitting in a café, as usual, her piercing eyes covered by a new pair of darkly rimmed sunglasses, her hair pulled back from her face, a bead of sweat creeping down her bare back, Vanessa took in the sights while men took in the sight of her. She smiled at the newfound attention, not truly remembering the last time she felt so desired, so in with everyone around her. The change in location was going to be good – it had to be.

But she couldn't help remember all the bad. She couldn't help but cringe at the thought of nearly everything that came before.

It had been more than a year since Chuck Bass had spent the night in her dorm room at NYU. A year since Blair Waldorf had accused him of cheating on her, accused them both of having sex. Vanessa and Chuck had denied it, always denied it – and that seemed to do the trick.

It had been more than a year since Vanessa returned Chuck's wool suit jacket, the one that smelled of musk and scotch and sadness. More than a year since she had turned her back on him and their wicked games; but not before stealing a souvenir for herself.

After the infighting; after the make up and break up and make up and final break up with Dan; after lying and cheating and stealing to get their attention – anyone's attention - Vanessa had had enough. She packed her bags and said goodbye.

But no one wanted to hear it. No one was sad to see her go.

It had been more than a year since Chuck had looked at her, lusted after her, maybe even loved her. And now she was nothing more than a distant memory, a forgotten girl who served them coffee with a camera in one hand and a judgmental smile plastered on her face. Even her best friend hated her and she knew no Spanish holiday could change that.

The Upper East Side had made her different. It had nearly swallowed her whole.

The day she climbed up Dan Humphrey's fire escape and crawled through his window to find him a changed boy, a wannabe "insider", was the day her life began. Sad to say, but there was truly no fun in her world before that moment. But the fun had ended when Chuck Bass chose Blair, and Vanessa found she was never able to get herself back on track. The fire escape closed – she couldn't retreat back down.

The memories flashed before her. Memories of her failed attempts to finally fit in, her schemes and lies, her leaving and coming back and leaving again – each time hoping her returns would be met with more enthusiasm, each time realizing she was becoming more and more irrelevant to those who claimed to love her. The memories were almost all she had.

As Vanessa blinked back the urge to cry in frustration, she remembered where she was and all she had been forced to give up to be there.

Barcelona, Spain was going to help her start her life again.

Taking another sip of her cappuccino, the foam leaving miniscule dots on her lush, red lips, Vanessa caught a glimpse of her past over the upper most rim of her glasses. For just a moment, just a second, she thought she had spotted a ghost.

As a rush of people passed before the café and the vision was blocked; the ghost – the man – was gone.

Could it be him?

Without thinking, Vanessa lifted herself from her chair, tossing money down on the table (perhaps too much, perhaps not enough) and vanished from the café, finding herself out on the street jostling with the crowd.

When she had left New York City she was sure she loved Dan. They had come so far, hit highs and fell into countless lows. Through it all their friendship seemed to stay intact, bruised, yes, but intact. Vanessa knew him, knew what he liked, what he thought, what he needed and wanted and what he could ultimately achieve.

Then suddenly, somewhere between the scheme with Jenny or the scheme with Blair or the scheme with Jenny and Juliet; somewhere after loving Milo and before finding Dan's novel; somewhere close to home, but so far from herself, Vanessa lost him. She lost their friendship, their love, their life together.

Suddenly, somewhere along the line, Blair Waldorf became Dan's best friend and the world crumbled down.

A stranger hit her shoulder hard, nearly knocking her faux-leather, olive green purse from her form. Vanessa snapped back to the present, pushing through the crowd, onward and upward over the bridges and cracking ancient streets. She could nearly smell the scotch wafting in patches of the sunlit air as she followed the invisible path of her ghost.

The phantom scent forced her to instinctively grab her purse tighter, knowing what was inside. Through the worn skin she could feel the outline of the flask and silently wished it was full, and perhaps in someone else's hands.

The night she had slipped it from Chuck's wool suit blazer was the night they had finally said goodbye. Even through the next year, each time they saw one another it was different – but Vanessa would never forget, and she hoped Chuck wouldn't either. Maybe she was about to get her wish.

He had become a man without her, become the person his deceased father and Lily van der Woodsen seemingly knew he could. He did it all without her help or presence or knowledge. He became someone all on his own, and knowing that made him more desirable.

Turning the corners between the buildings, walking briskly between the people and past the vendors Vanessa felt closer than ever to something she couldn't see and could barely comprehend. Turning what seemed like the final corner and finding herself in a fountain-centered courtyard, Vanessa scanned the grounds. Her ghost was nowhere to be found.

She sighed helplessly, her hands resting on jutting hips. Taking a last look around she turned on her heels, the soles on her black high heel boots crushing the tiny pebbles beneath her feet, and began walking back to vendor row. Perhaps she could shop her blues away – she really had become a New York girl.

Walking into the lion's den of the fiscally minded shopper Vanessa relaxed. Multi-colored scarves blew in the wind, whipping around the alleyway as trinkets and jewels made music in the daylight. There were no ghosts here, or at least she thought.

Grabbing a scarf from the rack before her, feeling the silk on her skin, Vanessa felt a presence behind her - something or someone less than silky, but still smooth. The hairs on the back of her neck perked, her legs quaked with anticipation, knowing what was next.

"Hello Vanessa," he said, his voice low, determined. "It's been too long."

His hand on her shoulder forced her to turn around, and then they were face to face.

"Hello Chuck."

He smiled, that half smile, the delicious upturn of the right side of his lips and Vanessa couldn't help but counter.

"How have you been?" she asked, already standing on the balls of her feet, leaning in toward him – like old times.

As if he recognized her desire, Chuck leaned down to meet her, his mouth finding the softness of her ear. "I'm better, now that you're here," he whispered.

Vanessa released the scarf and placed her hands on the lapels of Chuck's navy pin-stripe suit, but instead of pulling him close she pushed him away.

"Oh no," she mocked. "I'm not going there again."

Letting go of her ghost, Vanessa walked back into the fray of tourists, knowing full well that Chuck Bass would follow. The thrill of feeling him behind her, trailing her, gave her an extra jolt. She sashayed, for perhaps the first time in her life.

"From back here it looks exactly like we are going there again," Chuck called from his shadowed position at the rear of her rear.

Vanessa did not respond. She didn't have to.

Chuck reached out and took her hand. She stopped, and he found himself pressed against her back. Their breathing found unison, moving their bodies in sync up and down to the beat of their own hearts.

"Just like old times then?" she quipped.

"Not exactly," he responded.

"Oh no?" Vanessa purred, leaning her head back, her lush hair grazing Chuck's freshly shaven cheek. "What's changed?"

"Time," he told her flatly, his hands moving up from hers, his fingers wrapping themselves around her arms.

Vanessa knew he was right. The passage of time had changed them. Chuck was once with Blair now he was alone. Vanessa was once with Dan and now she was alone. Chuck was once considered by his peers to be a mysterious, infamous playboy and Vanessa was thought to mysterious to be noticeable at all. Time had brought them back to the beginning. They were starting at square one all over again, only older and hopefully wiser the second time around. Vanessa hoped against all hope that it could be true. Perhaps she would be wiser. Perhaps life would work itself out.

"Time has changed everything."

Vanessa shrugged off Chuck's hold and turned herself around to face him once again. But instead of leaning in and waiting for Chuck to meet her halfway, Vanessa swiftly and suddenly pressed her body to his. She let her hands find his face, her nails grazing the back of his neck. Closing her eyes gently, she could hear him inhale – the sharp, deep inhale of a man who knew what was coming next.

Falling forward, the heels of her boots rising off the ground, Vanessa moved her lips against his, the sweetness of her cherry colored pout parting. Chuck's hands moved from her arms and found her hips, his fingers digging deeply into her sides, pawing at the fabric of her blouse, pulling her in closer than before. Their bodies crashing together, their lips waxing across one another over and over, Vanessa let out a small moan and Chuck reciprocated.

Those walking around the couple began to stare; a few foreign visitors even took pictures on their camera phones. Others whispered, some even clapped, but then stuffed the sentiment back in their pockets and kept walking.

Vanessa pulled away, rocking back to look Chuck in the eye. His heavy eyelids opened slowly and they were staring one another down.

"Wow," Vanessa said, and Chuck nearly laughed at her honest expression of bewilderment.

Detaching herself from his grip and catching her breath Vanessa couldn't help but question what had just happened. Even in the land of sunshine, colorful Mediterranean dishes and wells of wine Vanessa could not bury her old inquisitive and destructive self.

"Did you follow me here?" she asked.

It took Chuck a moment to respond. "Abrams, your narcissism is running rampant."

"Maybe it's just yours rubbing off on me," she quipped. "But seriously, I need to know, did you follow me here?"

"No," he said, shaking his head in reinforcement. "I was just in the neighborhood and saw a beautiful girl at a café. The rest was your doing."

"So, time hasn't changed everything," Vanessa retorted.

Chuck sighed and brushed back his hair with a firm hand and solid stance. "Perhaps we should go talk about it."

"Chuck Bass wants to talk? I'm intrigued."

Two hours and two glasses of scotch later, nursed through streams of conversation, Vanessa and Chuck could be found sitting in a bar, surrounded by strangers, each having their own private talks. In the darkness of the large room, the blacked out windows shunning sunlight, Vanessa turned her body to Chuck, her lean legs crossed and playing seductively with his own.

They spoke of Blair, the Queen B and her new start with royalty. They spoke of Eric, Chuck's former little brother, and his impending trip to college. They spoke of Serena's Los Angeles bound self-exploration and her mother's stay-at-home summer plans. They spoke of Nate, who was waiting for Chuck somewhere in Europe, maybe Vienna, maybe Rome. They spoke of Jenny, but only briefly – poor Jenny, who had been hurt by them both and ran away. They spoke of money and no money, drinks and dances, Paris and Haiti, family and going without. But they failed to speak of the one person who seemed to thorn both their sides, a person Vanessa wasn't sure she'd ever speak to again.

Dan.

Vanessa had yet to tell anyone about _Inside_, Dan's semi-autobiographical, expose novel of life on the Upper East Side. And she knew Chuck had yet to tell anyone how hurt he'd been by the connection forged between Dan and Blair. She knew he'd never admit defeat, but she could still see it in his eyes when he spoke of Blair – defeat because another man had cracked her veneer.

Would she, could she, tell him? Tell Chuck that Dan's book was seemingly about Blair?

Not yet.

"Are you coming back to New York, when the summer's over?" Chuck asked, breaking the silent thoughts churning in her head.

She slowly shook her head. "No. Never."

He didn't respond, and she hoped it was because he understood.

"When are you going back to New York?"

"I have no plans to return," he told her, rolling the empty tumbler in his strong left hand, the glint of his overly expensive watch catching on the glass.

"Who needs New York when all of Europe can be your playground?" she told him rhetorically.

"Or Spain," he responded under his breath.

Vanessa raised her hand slightly to signal the waitress, hoping to garner them another round of drinks, but Chuck caught it and brought it down. His fingers wrapped around her own and she shivered.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked.

"You don't want another drink?"

"I think you know I do, but we have something we need to talk about and you should be sober for it."

"Thanks Bass for the condescending lecture, but I hold my liquor better than you remember."

He laughed for real this time. Maybe it was the way she spoke, the sultry way she said it, the devious look in her eye. She was getting to him again and she knew it.

He shook off the moment of levity and continued. "What did you tell Gossip Girl?"

"Excuse me?" Vanessa questioned, pulling her legs back and opening her seductive eyes wide.

"What did you tell Gossip Girl?"

"To be honest, I've told Gossip Girl many, many things. And so have you," she told him.

"True," he replied, moving his chair forward, closing the gap she created between them. "But I want to know what you told her last year, the last time we were together."

Vanessa was shocked, but held the emotion inside. How did he know? How did he still know her so well?

"Did you perhaps tell our secretive blogger that you and I are more than just friends?"

"Well, I don't think that's a secret Chuck."

"Did you perhaps tell her that the two of us had sex?"

As if on cue, Vanessa's phone lit up, the bells and whistles startling them both. She reached inside her bag and pulled out the iPhone, its screen already showcasing a picture of her and Chuck in the Spanish courtyard, lips locked on one another.

_Spotted: Chuck Bass rebounding once again. He may be a year older, but non the wiser. XOXO, Gossip Girl._


End file.
